


Ça Alors

by Yilena



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Fairy Tale Elements, Fantasy, Harpies, Minor Character Death, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Romance, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-07
Updated: 2017-12-07
Packaged: 2019-02-11 18:59:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 29,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12941643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yilena/pseuds/Yilena
Summary: A missing friend leads Marinette to finding out about a curse that can only be cured by true love, and along the way, she develops feelings for the one that placed it in the first place. AU.





	Ça Alors

**Author's Note:**

  * For [powerdragonmoon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/powerdragonmoon/gifts).



> Happy belated birthday, _powerdragonmoon_! This is a _Beauty and the Beast_ AU where the main characters aren't the ones in the title. I'm so so thankful to _Saij Spellhart_ for helping me out with this! She helped me decide on what beast to have (and even did designs for them), and we both toyed with the idea of the witch being a demon before scrapping it.
> 
> \- ̗̀art ̖́- [aoirin](http://aoirin.tumblr.com/post/175014264041), [saij](http://saijspellhart.tumblr.com/post/168293611121).

_Miraculous: Tales of Ladybug & Chat Noir © Thomas Astruc_

“Nathaniel?” Marinette exclaimed, surprised by the sudden silence on the other end of the call. “Are you still there? You cut off in the middle of your sentence.”

Crossing the street, she had her free hand in the pocket of her coat for warmth, a large scarf wrapped around her neck, a present from the male she was talking to. They'd exchanged presents the previous day—him receiving a personalised sketchbook and new charcoals, items he was overjoyed to have—and she'd purposely put it on with the intention of meeting him for lunch.

The plan fell through when she'd asked him for directions to a new café he'd wanted to try out, only for him to cut himself off with a gasp. It was a soft one, though, so she wasn't too worried that he'd managed to fall over her get himself into trouble. With a sigh, she called his name again, trying to catch his attention.

The cold air was making her eyes sting when she finally got a reply of, “Marinette?”

“Yes,” she grumbled. “I'm still here, waiting happily in the cold.”

“I just saw that Blond Guy go into the _Bourgeois Hotel_ ,” her friend replied, sounding shocked and intrigued all at once.

The _Bourgeois Hotel_ had been the most celebrated, and expensive, hotel in their city until a few months ago. The owner, Andre Bourgeois, had fired all of the employees, gave refunds to the guests that had been staying there at the time, and then hired handymen to nail wood over all the windows. It was a sudden transition from the pristine building it had once been, as it had overgrown plants at the front, a water feature that had no water in it any more, and the multiple lights that had once lit up the area attractively were without bulbs or power.

The news had tried to get the full story from the owner, but he'd denied to give comments in a clipped tone, thwarting every reporter that came his way before he travelled to a mansion that he owned abroad. There hadn't been any updates, but there were rumours and whispers circulating through the city, trying to make up obscure and horrifying tales about the sudden change.

Marinette remembered being a little girl, staring up with wide blue-coloured eyes as she took in the grand entrance, the shining marble floors, and the pristine outfits of the staff that she'd admired for the ribbons they wore instead of ties. Her parents had taken her to eat the the _Bourgeois Hotel's_ restaurant on special occasions, as it was also immaculate and highly-rated.

Tilting her head down for warmth from the scarf, she questioned, “Are you trying to tell me you witnessed a crime?”

“No.” Nathaniel let out a huff of laughter. “I'm serious, Blond Guy walked right up to one of the doors and used a set of keys. He had so many of them, but he got in after the third try.”

Blond Guy, as they referred to him as, was a male that Nathaniel had spotted weekly throughout the city and had developed an interest in him. Marinette humoured the comments, especially when her friend remarked on the strange items that he bought, sometimes going as far to duck into the stores that Blond Guy entered to quench his curiosity. It was an attraction that she teased him about sometimes, saying that it was borderline stalking, but Nathaniel always replied that he liked his facial features, and the strange purchases would make an interesting story (if he was able to figure out the motivation behind them).

“Why are you even by the _Bourgeois Hotel_?” Marinette questioned, reaching up to push her dark-coloured hair so it covered her over ear for some warmth. “I thought we were going somewhere else for lunch?”

Nathaniel didn't even sound guilty as he replied, “I got distracted.”

“You've been on the phone with me for ten minutes,” she pointed out, incredulous. “When were you going to tell me that you aren't even in the right place?”

“Well.” She could hear the amusement in his voice, and that caused her to smile despite herself. “I saw Blond Guy purchase a whole basket of tampons and got curious, okay? He's taken them inside now, and I think he left the door open. I didn't hear the lock.”

She blinked. “Why are you close enough to _hear_ it?”

“Curiosity,” he steadily admitted, though she was sure that his cheeks would've reddened to match his hair. “I haven't heard any news of the hotel opening up again, have you?”

The last news about Andre Bourgeois had been him yelling at a reporters a few weeks ago, clearly aggravated from the pestering and attention that he received still. The hotel had been closed for three months to that moment, no warning given. He'd threatened to sue and slander anyone that approached him further, not afraid to sound like a lunatic as he grew red in the face (that was the picture that landed on the front page of their newspaper, and on countless articles on the internet).

She was going to reply with a negative answer, but the call ended abruptly. Bewildered, Marinette dialled his number again, and grew increasingly frustrated as it went through to leave a message. She tried twice more, shifting the weight on her feet as she stood there in the street, eyebrows furrowing as it rang with no answer from him.

Tucking her cell phone away, Marinette had her hands shoved into her pockets as she navigated the streets, cheeks and nose pink from the cold weather, and made her way to the _Bourgeois Hotel_. It took fifteen minutes for her to walk there, and the large building looked as unappealing as ever.

The plants were uncared for, countless windows bordered up on all floors, and there were no visible lights on inside. Still, she walked forward and rapped her knuckles onto the glass door, peering through to stare at the uninviting hallway that was barely visible, darkness and fabric draped over the furniture to keep it clean.

No one came in view. Marinette let out a huff of frustration before she tried to call her friend again, cell phone in her hand as she tried to listen out to hear if he was nearby. There was no sound, though, and she ran a hand through her hair, visibly deflating as she gave up. Many reporters had knocked on the doors, trying to gain attention of anyone that could've possibly been inside, so it was clear that she wouldn't be answered that way.

So, she went home. Marinette left messages to Nathaniel, tried to reach him every few hours, growing increasingly worried as time went on.

He had a habit of cancelling their plans when inspiration struck; he was a freelance artist, one that had his own comic online that he updated sporadically. There were times were he stayed cooped up in his home, and she'd have to visit and scold him for staying up late, worried for the lack of communication they'd had.

They'd bonded in university together, having similar schedules with their chosen classes, and that friendship had stayed after they'd graduated. After considering whether to move in together as room-mates only—there was no romantic feelings between them, though they'd tried that back when they were younger—it was their mutual decisions to live alone, as he didn't want to risk Marinette's cat ruining his artwork.

Nathaniel, with his red-coloured hair that almost reached his shoulder and had bangs that he swept to one side, was her closest friend, and the fact that she'd been unable to reach him for twenty-four hours after the abrupt end of their call had her horribly worried. She travelled to his apartment, knocked loudly on the door, even resorting to shouting, only to be scolded by his neighbours. When questioned, they replied that they hadn't heard him, which wasn't reassuring at all. Although the door was thin, she couldn't hear his ringtone, too.

Panicked, Marinette had visited the local police station, saying that her friend had been missing for over twenty-fours, and that there was no sign of him. There was nothing suspicious about her case, but they said that they'd keep an eye out for him. It wasn't the best answer she could've got, but she promised herself to wait a few more days before sticking up posters with his face on them.

She called their mutual friends to see whether they'd heard from him, even went as far as to talk to his building's landlord, gaining access through a locksmith to enter his apartment, only to find it empty. Marinette had cried countless times until her eyes stung, posting entries online with her friend's pictures on it, even being specific enough to mention his turquoise-coloured eyes, and when she was in his apartment, she logged onto his different websites and posted there, too.

After two weeks of no replies, only worried comments and nothing concrete to act on, Marinette wound the scarf around her neck with a determined expression.

Blond Guy was the last topic of their conversation, along with the _Bourgeois Hotel_. When Marinette had stated that that was the last place that he'd been seen, the police had informed her that the security cameras at the hotel had been turned off—a titbit that the public didn't know—and that the surrounding buildings hadn't had the right angles to see whether Nathaniel had been there.

Rather than frequenting the shops to see whether Blond Guy—who she'd only seen from afar once, when Nathaniel had happily pointed him out and the basket filled with an assortment of sweets that weighed him down—visited them, Marinette chose to sit across the road from the hotel, scanning the passing crowds to see whether anyone blond, or male if they were wearing a hat, approached the doors.

There was the matter of multiple doors, too. She changed position every hour, giving her body a chance to warm up, sometimes ducking into nearby cafés to pick up a hot drink, circling the hotel and trying to work as adequate surveillance, alone.

She was about to give up when she spotted someone around the back of the building, steadily walking forward while carrying a full plastic bag that seemed to be bursting at the seams. Approaching as stealthily as she could, Marinette tried not to slip on the icy ground, aware that she couldn't feel the tips of her fingers as she saw the keys that the male pulled from his pocket; there was at least twenty different kinds, and he sorted through them, breath visible as he got it right on the fourth try.

He had to be Blond Guy. The male before her was tall, little strands of light-coloured hair sticking out beneath a hat, and his long coat had the collar up for warmth, obscuring his jawline. Marinette glimpsed a scarf, too, that stood out against the rest of his dark outfit.

As she didn't want to scare him, she hovered a few metres behind, wondering if it was the distance that Nathaniel had once stood to hear the lock. She had clearly heard the keys as they moved, and as the door shut—no glass to peer inside—she waited two minutes before taking in a deep breath and putting her hand on the door handle.

It wasn't locked.

Marinette knew that what she was about to do was bad, truly, but Nathaniel—

He'd been missing for over two weeks. Their last conversation had revolved about the male that she'd seen, and the hotel that shut down, bordered off from the public. Her heart was hammering nervously in her chest, and her palms grew clammy beneath the gloves—the tips of her fingers still numb from the cold, though—as she turned the handle, allowing herself illegal access.

There was darkness. The lights hadn't been on, so she used the light from her cell phone's screen to illuminate her way, to avoid tripping on the sheets that covered the furniture, cautiously walking slow so her footsteps were quiet. It didn't help that her pulse was echoing in her head, breaths not calm and collected as she would've liked them to be.

Shining the light as she walked through the corridors, she tried to listen out for any noises, to hear if there was anyone inside, but she'd came in too many minutes after the blond-haired male, unable to locate him. As she approached the first staircase, hands touching the dust that coated the once pristine railing, she shivered from the coldness throughout the home. Even though the windows were bordered up, there was no heating, and all the electronics seemed to be unplugged and inactive.

She tried the doors on the floor she ascended to, only to find out that they were locked. The doorknobs rattled as she tried to open them, making more noise than she was comfortable with, and Marinette looked over her shoulder in paranoia, pointing her cell phone down the darkened hallways to make sure that she was safe.

The next staircase was just as dusty as the last. Marinette raised her scarf to cover her nose, not wanting to sneeze too loudly and have it echo in the empty hallways, and climbed it slowly. Her cell phone illuminated each step that she took slowly, making sure to not trip.

She froze abruptly as she heard hushed whispers, the sound too incoherent to make out.

The need to know about her friend won over her fear of being caught. If the police were called, she'd happily take the fine, anything they wished to press her with as long as she was able to determine whether the hotel was responsible for Nathaniel's disappearance.

With a deep breath, she continued climbing the stairs after she'd turned the light down from her phone. It was tilted downwards to try and make herself inconspicuous as she moved, and her glove-clad hand gripped the railing for support as she willed her boots to be quiet.

“No, don't,” was the first sentence she could make out fully, a desperate and pleading whisper.

Still, she pushed forward, hoping that she'd be near the top of the stairs soon.

The same voice, one that sounded low and sad, uttered, “Please, we can hardly handle him as it is.”

 _Him_? Marinette almost lost her footing, stumbling on the stairs before she caught herself by putting her arms out in front of her. It was audible, and terror gripped her as she realised her fumbling mistake—they were close enough to hear, to eavesdrop without straining herself, which meant that they'd surely heard her, too; the surprised intake of breath, the sound of her hands hitting the stairs as she stopped herself.

Any words that she could've said to announce her reason for being there were ruined. When the voices stopped, Marinette gulped and tilted her cell phone, allowing the light to point forwards and allow her to inspect her surroundings. There, at the top of the staircase that had once been beautiful and a piece of art to behold, was a tall figure that had something wide behind them, stretching out to block the width of the staircase, not allowing space for her to pass.

Marinette was taken aback, eyes wide from the sheer absurdity that she was _seeing—_

Then, there was a deafening sound that had her falling to her knees, cell phone clattering to the floor as she let out a pained moan and cupped her ears, trying to stop the sound from tormenting her further. As she ground her palms against her ears in vain, blackness appeared before her eyes, a dizzy feeling overtaking her, and all she could think that what she'd seen couldn't have been human.

-x-

She stirred with a pounding headache.

Marinette pushed herself up, gripping at the roots of her hair to convince herself that she was conscious and okay, that the pain would subside in time. She kept her eyes squeezed shut for a few moments, taking in purposeful deep breaths as she willed her fast-beating heart to calm down. Panicking would do her no favours, she knew, and the fact that she was uncertain of what the situation was only made her worry more.

Opening her eyes cautiously, Marinette realised two things at once. She was in a hotel room, and the lamp on the bedside table was _on_. That made her grumble about the darkness of the halls, along with the lack of light that was seen from the outside. With a look around the room, she confirmed that other than the bed and the bedside table, the rest of the furniture had fabric draped over it for safekeeping, and the curtains were pulled over where she knew a boarded up window was.

Her coat, scarf and gloves were folded and placed beside the lamp, that was hanging precariously by the edge, and after a quick check of her pockets and clothing, she found her cell phone nowhere to be seen. Whoever had placed her on the bed had put her underneath the sheet, even made sure the duvet had been tucked around her, but at least they hadn't stripped her further than her coat and accessories for the outside weather.

Rubbing her temple with a wince, Marinette put her feet on the floor, and then was miffed that her shoes were still on. With a glance, she confirmed that mud decorated the sheet and duvet, ruining the otherwise clean bed that she'd been put in.

“Well, this certainly beats jail,” she muttered to herself, wrapping the scarf around her neck with pale hands.

There was no reason for her to stay there—maybe, just maybe, whoever she'd saw had taken pity on her and let her recover before they wanted to question her. Perhaps, the being that she'd saw—the flash of yellow and black that stood out from the darkness—had been a figment of her imagination, and not the reason that she'd fallen unconscious. Logically, she knew that it was impossible and that screeching couldn't make her faint, but there wasn't much logic in her friend going missing neither.

Clad in her clothing once more, hands snug in the gloves, Marinette encountered her next problem.

The door was locked.

She rattled the doorknob in frustration, cursing, “Fucking hell.”

That was the only exit, too. There was a bathroom connected to the room, one that had no windows within it, and the one in the bedroom was bordered up from the outside, even though she wasn't reckless enough to jump from the floor she was on. Marinette sat on the edge of the bed with a sigh, defeated before she'd even attempted to really escape.

The tiny fridge in the room wasn't stocked, of course. She was able to put the lights on the ceiling on, no longer only using the lamp to see, and simply sat there for a while, uncertain of whether she'd be left to rot in the room for too long.

When what felt like hours passed of nothing—no sounds, no one coming in to check on her—Marinette busied herself by looking for a chair underneath the covered furniture. There was one that was by the window, with the legs long and thin, exactly what she'd been looking for, and with a sense of triumph in mind, Marinette picked it up by the top and swung the chair against the wall, flinching from the loud noise it produced.

It took three swings for the leg to splinter and fall off, an awkward angle with dangerous pieces of wood sticking out at the top. It was the best weapon she could find in the locked room, and after grasping it in her hand, she took in a deep breath and leaned against the wall beside the door, on the side where it opened to obscure her from sight.

If it was a police officer that came through the door, she'd deal with the consequences.

Marinette's heart was beating wildly in anticipation and adrenaline, the want to know about her friend's disappearance spurring on her maniacal behaviour. She'd always been the type to jump to conclusions, stubbornly holding onto them despite how ludicrous the ideas were, but she'd never purposely put someone else in danger because of her assumptions.

There was nothing reassuring when she'd woken up; no note to explain her situation, a locked room with limited access as her only greeting, and that most definitely was not the best way to wake up after breaking into a private building.

Teenagers had tried to break into the _Bourgeois Hotel_ after it had closed, of course. Their mugshots were shown in the newspaper and online, recounting how they'd been caught instantly. If the security cameras were turned off, Marinette had to wonder whether the alarm system was, too. Perhaps, that was why Blond Guy frequented the place—

Except he'd been seen entering with supplies, spotted by Nathaniel and herself. There couldn't be a coincidence that he disappeared after venturing close from curiosity, right where there was a lack of cameras.

With the chair leg resting by her side, gloved hands gripping it tightly as she stayed fully dressed to keep warm in the room—there was no heating, she'd checked the radiator—she waited with baited breath for someone to approach.

As time passed by with her focusing on her thoughts to stay alert, the dark-haired female eventually slid down to sit on the floor, curling up into herself to be comfortable. There was only so much time that she could stand up without hurting her legs, and that had passed by with no indication that anyone was coming for her.

At least she had a bathroom.

The door opened when she was falling asleep. Marinette stiffened from the sound of rattling, and then the creak of the hinges as she fumbled for the chair leg, gripping it clumsily in her hands as she got to her wobbly feet. She prepared herself to hit the newcomer if the situation called for it, but instead of seeing a face, she was instead greeted by them holding up a large pillow to obscure their face.

She faltered, chair leg still raised in the air, but not poised for attack. “What are you doing?” she asked, voice coming out higher-pitched than usual due to her sudden panic.

“Oh,” they said, and as it was tucked underneath their arm, she quickly realised that it was Blond Guy. At a close distance, with no hat on his head, though he was wearing the winter coat that she'd seen before, she could see that his eyes were a bright shade of green. “I—sorry about that, I was expecting to be attacked.”

Her hand tightened around the chair leg. “Only if you attack me first,” she warned, trying to sound like her heart was hammering wildly in her chest.

“That's really not why I'm here,” he replied, and she realised with a jolt that he was the low voice that she'd heard on the stairs.

With a guarded expression, she took a step away from him. “You locked me in a room.”

“I didn't want you to get lost,” the blond-haired male replied easily, a hand raised to run through his hair in what seemed to be a nervous movement. “I apologise for taking so long to get you, but I—I had obligations to get to first.”

It was surreal. She'd been expecting one extreme to another, but never had she thought that she'd be apologised to when she was the one that had essentially broken in. As much as she wanted to believe the polite mask that was being shown to her, complete with a an awkward smile, she kept her hold on the make-shift weapon.

“You took my phone _and_ locked me in a room,” she accused.

Averting his eyes, he responded, “Your phone broke when you fainted, actually. I have the pieces in my pocket, if you want it back.”

With a stiff nod, Marinette warily held her hand out when he started rummaging through is coat, and her eyes widened in disbelief when she saw the shattered remains of her device; it wasn't just a crack in the screen, but it was split into at least four separate pieces, beyond help and repair by far. It wasn't the type of damage that would come from being dropping down a staircase, even if there wasn't carpet at the bottom.

“Is my friend here?” Marinette demanded as she declined the remains of her device, hands gripping onto the chair leg in what she hoped to be a threatening manner. “Taller than me, red hair and turquoise eyes? He was here two weeks ago, and he saw _you_.”

She was offered a stiff smile that wasn't at all sincere. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Your purchase of countless tampons,” she snapped. “My friend is _missing_ and this is the last place he was seen. The security cameras don't even work, and I heard you talking while I was on the stairs—you said that he was giving you trouble.”

He was looking anywhere but at her, that pillow still tucked underneath his arm and looking utterly out of place. “He could refer to anyone, you know.”

Narrowing her eyes, Marinette readily pointed out, “You're deflecting.”

“And you're accusing me of kidnapping your friend that I've never seen before,” the male shot back weakly, head turning to look over his shoulder and peek through the crack left in the door. “Look, I don't have much time, okay? I will help you get out, but you need to promise not to come back.”

There was an urgency in his hushed voice that caught her off guard. “What are you talking about?”

“You need to leave before you lose your chance,” he whispered, eyes wide as he checked outside the door. “I'm not fucking around with you. Please, I don't want to see anyone else get hurt because of me.”

And with that said, the pillow was dropped onto the floor as he beckoned her forward with that same panicked expression—the wide eyes, parted lips as he breathed through his mouth—willing her to be quiet as he placed a single finger against his lips. It was so sudden and strange that she stood there, visibly confused and uncertain, and it was him reaching towards her and pulling on the sleeve of her coat that made her move at all.

From what he was saying, he was trying to convince her that he wasn't the one putting her in danger. Marinette could remember the brief flash that she'd seen before she'd fallen unconscious, the large figure and colour that shouldn't have been there.

Against her better instincts, she decided to humour him. Marinette warily nodded, still clutching the chair leg as he loosely gripped her wrist over the top of her coat, directing her through the dark halls with ease. She idly wondered why he didn't just turn the lights on, as she'd already confirmed that the electricity worked, but that was forgotten as he stood still suddenly, frozen.

Marinette peered up at him, noting that she came to his shoulder.

The colour had drained from his face from what she could see. The small amount of light that came through the cracks in the boards over the windows allowed her to see faint outlines, and they'd stopped right in front of one.

“Adrien,” a voice called, sickly sweet as it came from above them. “You wouldn't happen to be trying to release my new pet, would you?”

He manoeuvred her so he was standing in front, head tilting back as he stared up the staircase to where the feminine voice had drifted down from. There was no visible person hanging over the railings, no sign that anyone was there other than for the words that had caused her to stiffen, too.

Adrien—not Blond Guy—whispered, “I'm sorry.” It was ever-so-quiet, barely audible as he tried to shield her from view. “We can't keep doing this, Chloé,” he continued, louder and clearly directed at the newcomer.

“Why not?” the female replied, sounding amused by the turn of events. “There's nothing you can do—I can knock her out in seconds, and you know that you can't stop me.”

The words made no sense to her, even though she'd fainted out of nowhere beforehand. There was no noise that could've caused her to react that way, but from the snicker that left the newcomer, she wondered whether she'd wandered into a den of malicious intent. From the way they were speaking it was clear that someone else was there—whether dead or alive, she didn't know—but it was implied that the kidnapping had been done before.

It was no wonder that her cell phone had been broken, then. It stopped anyone from being able to track her. With a shiver, she wondered whether they'd done the same to Nathaniel's when he'd been caught. The conflicting attitudes between the two had her equally worried, but she supposed that she'd rather her chances with the male beside her, the one that hadn't attacked her at first sight or called her a pet.

With a deep breath, she adjusted her body to hide behind him. It wasn't hard considering the size difference.

With a sigh, he answered in a weary voice, “We're drawing too much attention to ourselves.”

“Maybe you should've thought of that before fucking cursing me, asshole,” was the aggressive answer he received.

The blond-haired male continued to stare up the staircase, as though he knew where the other was standing. “You can't just kidnap people—”

Reacting to his words on instinct, Marinette pushed past him, staring up at the area he had been with a furious expression as she demanded, “Is Nathaniel here?”

A disapproving noise almost echoed through the halls. “She's speaking, Adrien.”

Adrien's hand fell onto her shoulder, in what she assumed to be a controlling movement, but she slapped his outstretched arm instead, stepping back to distance herself away from him. “I am not some _pet_ ,” the dark-haired female stressed, sounding just as frustrated as she felt. “I've already alerted the police that if I go missing, I was last seen here.”

There was a beat of silence as they took in her bluff. Marinette kept her expression purposely blank, willing them to believe her words—they'd broken her cell phone to restrict her, locked her in a room only for a half-hearted escape attempt, and her fear couldn't make her stop worrying for her friend.

“Do you really think you can get away with kidnapping twice?” she continued when they didn't respond, letting the chair leg clatter to the floor. She whirled around to stare fiercely at the blond-haired male, taking a step forward and pushing him roughly with her glove-clad hands. “I'm here because my friend has been missing for two weeks after being curious about _you_.”

She emphasised that with another shove, and he didn't even try to defend himself. Adrien took the hits, closing his eyes as he stumbled back with her strength, the submissive response only causing more anger to well within her.

“Where is he?” she enquired, voice cracking at the end and causing her to come across vulnerable.

Chloé's voice trailed down, sickly sweet once more as she demanded, “Take care of her or _I_ will.”

When his hands gently wrapped around her wrists within her sleeves, Marinette flinched and tried to pull away, only for him to whisper for the two of them to hear, “Please, play along. I'll try and help you again, but we need to do as she says for now.”

With the threat in mind, Marinette allowed herself to be directed back up the stairs and into the room she'd been occupying, never getting a chance to look over her shoulder to see Chloé or ask questions, as she was shoved into with a push that made her gasp, and the door was quickly locked behind her.

“ _No_!” she shouted, gloved hands hitting the door loudly to catch their attention. “Let me out!”

She continued to use her fists until they grew sore, her legs hurting from standing upright as her stinging eyes released tears. Sinking down onto her knees, she desperately continued to attempt to draw attention to herself, breaths coming out as gasps as she blinked from the blurriness of her eyes.

Her voice grew hoarse as she continued to the mantra underneath her breath.

-x-

Adrien visited with food two times a day, and gave her new clothing on the third day. It was an awkward experience for the both of them—the first time he walked in, Marinette had broken off another chair leg, poised herself to be attacked, and he'd shielded himself with a pillow again.

“Do you get attacked often?” she asked flatly.

The pillow was lowered enough to see his sheepish smile. “Your friend punched me in the face the first time I went into his room.”

That was all the confirmation that she needed. For two weeks, Nathaniel had been held in the hotel due to the whims of someone she hadn't seen—she couldn't have—and as the days passed with the blond-haired male tiredly delivering her food and telling her that he was planning to get her out, still, it became clear that he seemed to be acting as a servant of sorts for the hotel.

Chloé was revealed by him to be Chloé Bourgeois, Andre's daughter that hadn't been seen for months. Many had speculated whether her disappearance had been the cause of shutting down the hotel, yet she was still there, walking through the floor with high-heeled shoes that Marinette could hear if she stayed near the doorway.

Adrien delivered a poorly-drawn map of the hotel with her breakfast on the fifth day, complete with scribbled notes on where to go.

She didn't want to leave without her friend, though.

When Marinette brought that up the next time he came in—with a dinner on the expensive plates that the restaurant used—Adrien stiffened before the sad look flickered on his face again. Marinette hadn't decided to trust him fully, knowing that the talk of escaping could've been him trying to keep her morale up for malicious reasons, but he was the only source of conversation she had when she was stuck in the locked room.

She'd tried to escape, of course. Adrien had quickly grabbed onto her and pushed her back into the room, uttering apologies as he did so.

She just didn't understand.

“Why are you here?” the dark-haired female questioned from upon the bed, watching the guarded expression he had as he entered the doorway. There seemed to always be the expectations that she'd attack him, and she was utmost proud that Nathaniel had done so. “Why aren't you going to the police?”

He put the tray down at the bottom of the bed, keeping his distance. “This is my fault,” was the answer she got, his favourite one for an explanation.

Frustrated, she ran a hand through her hair. “That doesn't explain anything. You're a willing accomplice to kidnapping, you do realise that, right?”

“Even if the police suspect us, they will not be able to do anything,” Adrien replied softly, hands tucked into the pocket of his coat. He'd appeared in thick clothing each day, while Marinette stayed huddled in her coat and new t-shirt and jeans that he'd brought along for her (that were roughly the same size, legs too long so they were rolled up). “This is beyond them, and even you.”

“Right.” She looked at him sourly. “That doesn't make you sound like a murderer, not at all.”

Shifting his feet, she almost didn't hear him as he asked, “Do you believe in magic?”

She stared.

Adrien sighed as he rested his back against the door, blocking her way purposely. “The reason that the hotel's closed is because Chloé's cursed.”

Chloé had snidely mentioned that before Marinette had been hauled back into the room and locked in it for days. That didn't mean that she could believe the explanation of magic, not when a curse could've been something as simple as falling over whenever she didn't intend to.

Sceptically, Marinette asked, “Let's say I believe you—what's the curse?”

Staring at everything but her—green eyes directed at the foot of the bed, on the dinner he'd delivered and she hadn't touched—Adrien opened his mouth without audible sound a few times, clearly trying to think of the best way to answer.

It was after some deliberation that he responded, “Do you remember how you fainted?”

“Not really,” Marinette answered, honest. She remembered the feeling of fear and dread as she eavesdropped, and then the flash of colour that had appeared before her consciousness had disappeared with a burst of pain. “I do remember waking up to a locked room, however.”

He shook his head, avoiding the last comment. “She can do that on command—make anyone fall unconscious, I mean.”

Making it so both of her feet were on the ground, Marinette sat on the edge of the bed as she replied dubiously, “That doesn't seem like much of a curse.”

“It is,” he whispered, voice stricken with grief. Adrien's eyes closed in what appeared to be a pained expression, and she wondered briefly whether he was delusional. “Her appearance turns more inhumane as time passes with the curse unbroken. Andre Bourgeois rejected his daughter at first sight, which resulted in him closing the hotel and disappearing to a different country to escape her.”

It sounded like a fairytale; mythical, fantastical, and utterly untrue. “Break it, then. The Bourgeois' are rich, so I'm sure they'd be able to afford any cure that she needs. I can get Nathaniel and leave after her insanity's gone.”

She didn't mention that his would be, too, due to the passive nature that he usually had. Only when she attempted to escape did he raise a hand—but he never struck her, instead only catching her limbs as she attempted to fight, hauling her back into the room. Whether that was the character he was playing, determined to come across as the good one of the two within the hotel, Marinette had yet to work out. It didn't change the fact that he was a kidnapper, too.

With a sigh, he responded, “Money can't buy love, Marinette.”

She stilled. “I never told you my name.”

He didn't look ashamed as he explained, “Nathaniel's mentioned you.”

Her eyes narrowed. “How delusional are you two? There's no illness that can be cured by love; that's the kind of thing you read in fictional books, not medical ones.”

“I'm sorry,” the blond-haired male replied without missing a beat. “This is why I tried to get you out—Chloé has no need for you to be here, not when she already has her hopes pinned onto your friend.”

The words caused her to clench her fists in restrained anger. Jumping up to her feet, Marinette demanded, “You kidnapped my friend to be her _toy_?”

Adrien's eyes widened as he held his hands up in a form of surrender, trying to discourage her from violence. As she stalked forward, he stuttered out, “I—I didn't mean it like _that_. He's willingly chosen to be here after seeing her.”

“That's a fucking lie,” she accused, feet almost touching his as she stood in front of him, scowling. With her hands balled up by her sides, tempted to escape by the means of rendering him momentarily distracted from pain, Marinette continued on and spat out, “I'm not going to believe anything you say, and I've been kept here long enough.”

“You can't—”

“ _Why_?” Marinette snapped, staring up at him with furrowed eyebrows. “You—you can't just keep me here, Adrien! I'm not a prisoner, and you're the shittiest guard ever. You're not supposed to whisper promises of escape, nor give me a fucking map, if you're just going to try and talk me out of it each time!”

He wasn't afraid of her. Adrien stared at her face, that was surely red from anger, and gave her a shaky smile, one that shouldn't have been present due to her temper and words. Yet, he wasn't upset by the accusations—just accepting, as he had been with most things.

Reaching up to fiddle with the strands that had fallen into his eyes, the blond-haired male announced, “Chloé has requested your presence for breakfast tomorrow.”

“Great.” She huffed. “Am I going to be murdered before I'm allowed to eat?”

“Just—” Adrien started before breathing out a sigh. “Try not to antagonise her, okay? If she dismisses you without me, use the map and find a way out.”

She swallowed audibly. “I'm not leaving without Nathaniel.”

There was a moment where she thought he'd turn and leave without answering her, but as his hand fell onto the door handle, he uttered, “He'll be present at breakfast, I assure you.”

-x-

Nathaniel was there.

He was sat at one of the tables at the restaurant alone, illuminated by the lights that were turned on for once, clad in the large coat that he always wore and the scarf that she'd made him back when they were in university. When she let out a strangled noise and rushed into the dining room—leaving Adrien's side after he'd escorted her—his eyes snapped up as she practically tackled him to wrap her arms around him, assuring herself that he was there.

“You're alive,” was what she repeated, a hushed mantra as he returned the embrace. Her eyes prickled and felt warm as she tried to keep her emotions in tact—but seeing him, the clean face and hair, the clothes that clearly meant that he was looked after, settled the fears that he was gone. “I've been looking everywhere for you, asshole.”

She could feel as he laughed. It was a quiet sound that she was fond of. “Actually, I've heard you've been stuck in a room for almost a week.”

“You knew?” she whispered, pulling back so she could see his face.

The small smile there wasn't faked. “I've been begging for your release, so yes.”

“What the fuck is going on, Nathaniel?” Marinette questioned, eyes darting around the empty room, noting that the table that they were at was the only one prepared. Adrien was hovering by the doorway, arms crossed as he looked at anything but the two of them. “Why did you follow Blond Guy inside?”

“I—” Nathaniel cut himself off to furrow his brow, looking conflicted. “I heard something that I couldn't explain at the time. It was like it was hypnotic, and I couldn't fight the want to go inside the hotel.”

She kept her hands gripping onto his coat. “Why haven't you left?”

“The curse isn't made up,” he blurted out, eyes darting over her shoulder to check the doorways. “When Chloé comes, just don't upset her, okay? I'll try and help you get out, but you _need_ to stay calm.”

That was a reiteration of what Adrien had said, too. She wanted to enquire further, to ask the nagging questions about his welfare and time spent at the hotel, but from her friend's sudden stiff form, it became clear that they had to save it for later. Nathaniel gestured with wide eyes for her to sit down on one of the chairs, on the opposite side of the table, an imploring expression that he usually reserved for asking her to order dinner for the both of them.

The tell-tale sound of high-heeled shoes echoed throughout the hallways—eerily similar to what she'd heard while locked in her room—and Marinette kept her hands bundled up in her coat pockets to resist reaching for cutlery to use as self-defence as a figure approached, shadows appearing from the archway that acted as the entrance to the restaurant. The dining room had the only lights in on the house, and it seemed that Chloé had paused in the darkness, lurking in wait as Adrien stood there, arms still crossed.

“Don't insult her,” Nathaniel whispered from across the table, not sounding as afraid as she'd expected.

Scowling, Marinette shifted in her seat to face the doorway, awaiting the snide female that she'd heard all those days ago. The one that had referred to her as a pet, and had ordered for her to be held captive.

Her breath caught in her throat as Chloé stepped into the light.

It really was Chloé Bourgeois.

She was tall, almost to the height of Adrien if the high-heeled shoes were tossed aside, with golden-coloured hair that hung down to her breasts. Her facial features that could've been attractive if they hadn't been pulled into a scowl. It was a more mature version of pictures that she'd seen in the news, detailing Chloé's adventures in public, but it was the large appendages that hung down on either side of her body that startled her.

They were wings, there was no doubt about it. The primary colour was a shocking shade of yellow, and it had accents and highlights of black scattered across the feathers. The wings were trailing across the floor as the blonde-haired female walked forward, glare focused on Marinette as she stalked into the seat far away from the two of them.

They moved, too. Marinette watched with wide eyes as Chloé adjusted herself, not lifting a finger as the wings stretched out before coming back down, trying to curl into themselves beside the chair.

She shot a panicked look at Nathaniel, but he was busying himself by taking a sip of water.

“So, you're Marinette,” the blonde started, disdain clear in her voice.

Marinette took a deep breath as she looked at the newcomer, but it didn't quell her rising irritation from the situation. “And you're actually a beast who kidnapped two people.”

To her surprise, Chloé snorted. “You? Yes, I did. Nathaniel's chosen to stay here because he's fascinated by my unfortunate condition.”

She turned her gaze to her friend, silently answering whether that was true. The red-head had the decency to look sheepish as he shrugged back at her, and she resisted the urge to sigh as he reached into his pocket to extract the small sketchbook he carried around with him, flipping through the pages as he produced a pencil, too.

Chloé didn't protest as Nathaniel started to draw at the table. If anything, she seemed to preen underneath the attention, resting an elbow and her head into her open palm, peering at Marinette with the same negative expression that had been there since she'd walked inside.

“You do realise that the police know he's missing, right?” she questioned, a hand gesturing across the table to her friend. “I've alerted the authorities about his disappearance, and it's only a matter of time before they connect mine with it, too.”

The blonde raised her other hand and waved it dismissively. “Adrien's already spoken to them. If they come back again, I'll just knock them out before they can come in. It's fine.”

The mention of the ability was so off-handed that it seemed to be a joke. Yet, there really was someone sitting beside her with enormous wings—much larger than any bird she'd ever seen—so, the doubt that she'd keep holding onto was gradually slipping. Nathaniel had mentioned the curse was real, and Adrien had said that it turned her more monstrous as time passed. Three months, almost four, had passed since the hotel had closed, presumably when the curse had started.

She wondered whether the abilities were still developing.

“So, what?” Marinette started, eyebrows furrowing as she took in the casual way the two were interacting. It became obvious that drawing her was something that Nathaniel did often, perhaps every time that the two had met. “You're going to keep him here until he falls in love with you?”

At the same time that Chloé stiffened, Nathaniel's eyes didn't flicker away from his drawing as he remarked, “The him in question is right here, Mari.”

Chloé's chair squeaked as she stood up quickly, fists clenched on the tablecloth. “He told _you_?” she spat, anger leaking into her voice.

She was an imposing figure, standing there with her wings aggressively moving around her, the livid look in her eyes causing Marinette's own to widen.

“You—” Chloé cut herself off with a strangled noise before she ran out of the room into the darkened hallway, high-heeled shoes clattering along the way.

Marinette watched her go with an uncomfortable feeling of dread coiling in her stomach. She knew that she'd messed up with the mention of love, yet she'd thought that Nathaniel would know the reason that he was being kept.

Her friend simply continued sketching as he remarked, “I told you not to annoy her.”

“I literally only spoke the truth,” she retorted, running a frustrated hand through her hair. “Why the fuck are you staying here? I hired a locksmith to get into your apartment and everything, Nathaniel. You have work to do—shit, I have work.” With a groan, she mourned, “Oh, I've probably been fired for my unannounced absence.”

The sound of his pencil on the paper filled the silent room. “I'm curious about the curse. After Chloé did the whole threatening act, it became pretty clear that she's lonely. I offered to stay as long as she let me draw her.”

”...Gaining an unusual model doesn't mean you have to give up your life,” Marinette said with a sigh. “There's people looking for you, Nathaniel. You can go home, sort out this mess and come back here if you really want to continue sketching her and her wings.”

“I have enough money to cover this month's rent without worrying,” he replied, shaking his head dismissively. “I saved for the holidays, and having limited friends to buy presents for worked out in the end.”

She blinked. “You can't pay rent when you're officially missing.”

“Oh, you have a point there.” He reached up to tuck a stray hair behind his ear. “I'll ask Chloé about it later when she's calmed down. What did you mean about love, by the way?”

Looking over her shoulder to see whether Adrien was lurking by the hallway still, Marinette only replied when she was sure that the two of them were alone. “When Adrien was trying to convince me to leave, he mentioned that the curse can only be broken by something that money can't buy—love. It sounds absolutely ridiculous, but she has _wings_.”

“She's gaining something else soon. The curse alters her every two months—she didn't have the powers of her vocal chords in the beginning, just the wings,” Nathaniel readily explained, erasing a part of the picture that he was unhappy with. “Adrien's right, by the way, Marinette. You should get out of here and stop people looking for you; you have family members that'll be worried, unlike me.”

She swallowed. “I'm not leaving you.”

“I'll talk to her about leaving, really,” he tried to assure her, gaze flickering up to meet hers. “Once you get past the prickly exterior, she's surprisingly nice, other than the cursed body. If I promise to come back and visit after sorting out my apartment, I'm sure she'd agree to let me go.”

“Where's your cell phone?” Marinette questioned, remembering that hers had been purposely destroyed.

As it turned out, his had been, too. Nathaniel had been lured inside by Chloé's singing; apparently, on the second month the curse had developed so that when she sang, it was a hypnotising sound that lured people in when they heard it, regardless of what they were doing beforehand. It was what she did, loudly, when she wanted Adrien's assistance, and Nathaniel had been close enough to hear it.

The initial reaction to his arrival had been the same as hers—Chloé had knocked him out by screaming, which produced a shrill sound that cause anyone's consciousness to flicker. Nathaniel had woken up to Adrien trying to explain the situation to him, and the red-head had promptly punched him in the face, and repeated the action the next time Adrien walked through the door into the bedroom.

After Chloé visited him, his aggression dissolved as he took in her wings. The fascination that he'd had with Blond Guy had shifted onto the cursed female, and he seemed content to sit in the dark hotel, roaming the halls freely—he assured her that he wasn't kept locked in a room, and was able to walk around—as long as he was able to draw to satisfy his creative urges.

Adrien appeared in the hallway, clearing his throat to get their attention. “Chloé's agreed to let you go, as long as you don't create any trouble for her, Marinette.”

Her gaze stayed on her friend as she replied, “That depends on whether you treat Nathaniel well. If I find out that you're mistreating him, I will go straight to the police.”

“You know the police won't investigate the hotel further,” the blond pointed out.

“Regardless.” With a sigh, Marinette moved around to the other side of the table, wrapping her arms around Nathaniel for another embrace. He readily returned it, the familiar movement of his pushing his drawing away so it wouldn't be smudged from the affection. “I'll come back and visit you when I sort out everything with my job, okay? You need to make sure to talk to Chloé about your disappearance. I posted on your blogs announcing you're missing.”

Their good-bye wasn't filled with tears or false promises. Nathaniel walked with her through the darkened halls, Adrien lurking in the background, a few steps behind as he kept to himself, and she was led to the door that she'd originally entered in, looking around to see the covered furniture that she'd spied the first time.

“Why aren't the lights turned on?” she questioned, voice echoing in the hallway.

Adrien was the one to answer, “Andre gave Chloé a limited allowance. She refuses to let me help pay for the bills, so we have to make do with sacrifices.”

And yet, she'd been able to freely control the lights in the room she'd been in for almost a week. Marinette shifted awkwardly on the spot before she embraced Nathaniel once more, her chin resting on his shoulder as she glared at the darkened figure of Adrien standing behind them.

“I will be back,” she promised.

-x-

She was fired from her job.

Marinette grumbled to herself, sorting through different adverts, searching for interviews. It turned out that her parents hadn't been too worried when she didn't answer their call, and as no one had gotten back to her about Nathaniel, they hadn't assumed her to be missing—which meant she didn't need to go to the police to prove that she was safe, and okay. All she had to deal with was the backlash of her former boss.

As promised, Nathaniel turned up the following week. He knocked at her door, and she'd opened it with a toothbrush still in her mouth, dumbfounded as he smiled sheepishly before letting himself in.

The official story was that his cell phone had broken while he was away for a trip, and he'd had to explain himself to the police. The messages on his blogs were removed, an update was posted saying that he was perfectly fine, and he reassumed his commissions and original work to make money. As the _Bourgeois Hotel_ had a limited budget, that meant that as well as no heating, it had no internet for him to use. So, it was after a few days of persuading that he'd managed to agree to complete his work during the week, and then spend two nights at the hotel.

“She got really embarrassed when I asked about the love cure,” Nathaniel explained as they cooked dinner together, not at all looking like he'd been missing for weeks. “I told her that I'm probably not going to be the one for her, but I wouldn't mind being friends.”

She sighed. “She knocked you out and kept you hostage.”

He laughed at that. “For about two days, Marinette. I agreed to be there willingly after I saw the wings.”

“This—it's insane to think about,” the dark-haired female admitted, hands fiddling with the cooking utensils needlessly. “Stuff like this we only see in films, or hear about wild theories about conspiracies and government experiments. Yet, she's right there, looking human other than the huge wings coming out of her back. I mean, can she _fly_?”

“I asked about that,” he mused. “She hasn't attempted it and mostly tries to ignore them. A lot of the mirrors are covered so she can't see herself.”

With that surprise, Marinette murmured, “Oh.”

“From what I can gather, she used to be a total brat.” At the raised eyebrows he received, Nathaniel shook his head as he correct himself, “Well, she still is, a bit. Chloé used to be big on drinking and partying, now she's stuck in the hotel with only Adrien as company. She latched onto me for conversation as soon as it became clear that I wasn't going to scream or accuse her of being a monster.”

“Yet,” she reminded him. “She's changing soon, remember?”

He nodded, hair falling into his eyes as he did so. “Yes.”

With a job interview scheduled that weekend, Marinette only consented to her friend returning after he'd purchased a new cell phone along with her. They exchanged numbers, and she demanded to be messaged to assure her of his safety when he visited.

It came through, assuring her that he was okay.

As soon as she was finished, Marinette changed into casual clothing and put her coat and gloves back on, the scarf Nathaniel had gifted her around her neck, and made her way to the hotel. She rapped her knuckles against the glass on the door, trying to capture the attention of anyone inside, but it was to no avail, much like the first time.

Disgruntled, she ended up calling Nathaniel and asked to be let inside. He didn't comment on her appearance, simply saying that someone would be there to open the door in a few minutes.

A few turned out to be more than ten. The dark-haired female had shoved her hands into her pocket for warmth, leaning against the wall to relieve the uncomfortable feeling in her legs, and it was the sound of approaching footsteps that caught her attention.

Adrien was walking towards her, the familiar path that she'd first followed him, with a large plastic bag in his hands. The large coat was on, collar propped up for warmth, a scarf tucked into it, and she could see that his cheeks and nose were coloured pink from the cold.

“Hey,” she greeted awkwardly, raising a gloved hand to catch his attention.

He paused mid-step, standing there with wide eyes for a moment before he offered her a strained smile. “You came back.”

“I'm worried that my friend might be turning into a furry,” she deadpanned. And with that said, she gestured towards the lock, waiting for the endless amount of keys to be revealed from his pocket. “I know you think true love's the only way to break the curse, but Nathaniel's never had a serious relationship with anything other than his love for art.”

With a laugh, Adrien complied and unlocked the door, pushing it open and allowing her to walk into the darkened hallway first. “Even if he's just a friend to her, it'll be helpful. She's shut out everyone after the curse.”

“Yes, the curse,” Marinette started, slowing her footsteps to fall beside him, uncertain on where to go. “Funny you mention that, as Nathaniel didn't seem to know much about it. Is he aware that you're the one that cast it?”

The blond tumbled forward and almost tumbled to the floor. He would've if it wasn't for Marinette reaching out to steady him, hands gripping onto his arms to keep him upright. There was still colour to his face as he looked at her from the corner of his eyes, lips curled down into a frown.

“I thought you'd forget that,” he mumbled, sounding put out.

“Yeah, no,” she replied unapologetically. Although her heart was beating from the nerves, hands clammy beneath the gloves, the words came out stable and steady as she said, “I kind of want to know if I'm dealing with a twisted sorcerer, especially since you kept saying it was your fault that I was locked in a room for a week.”

He swallowed audibly before starting to walk down the hallway with her tagging along behind, a few steps back. “I'm all human, just like you. I'm not a wizard, sorcerer, or any other name you'd like to tag to me. I can't cause anything to happen that you can't, not any more,” Adrien admitted quietly.

That meant that he could in the past. Marinette kept that information to herself, knowing that it wasn't right to push for information while he sounded sad and vulnerable. The fact that she was beginning to trust him didn't help, but then again, he had helped to let her go free, and Nathaniel hadn't been kept prisoner against his will. The only thing Adrien had done was obey Chloé's whims, forcefully locking her in a room by capturing her hands and restraining her—there had been no punches, painful shoves, or malicious movements that there could've been.

He seemed to be just a sad person that was working for someone cursed.

“So, you're not going to lock me into a room again, right? It was a nice bed and all, but I got fired from my job because of it. I had an interview earlier, and I'd really appreciate it if you'd leave my phone alone this time, too,” Marinette rambled, a habit that she fell in whenever she was around someone she wasn't particularly comfortable with (whether that was from nerves from affectionate feelings to indifferent ones, it didn't matter). “I really need to hear back from them so I can pay next month's rent.”

A quiet laugh escaped him. “No, I'm sure you'll be treated as a real guest this time. I remade the bed in the room you stayed in before, if you're here for the night.”

She sheepishly shrugged her shoulders. “I didn't really think that far ahead. I just came here as soon as I could to make sure Nathaniel's okay.”

“They're fine, I assure you.” Adrien offered her a small smile with that, and it looked as fake and forced as the others. She didn't think that she'd seen any that could've been classed as genuine since they'd met. “I went out to buy dinner since I don't like to cook everyday.”

“Oh,” she breathed, surprised. “Do you—do you do a lot around here?”

He led the two of them to the doors to the kitchen of the restaurant. The lights were flickered on, and she noticed that a lot of the bulbs were missing, so only the section that he went to was illuminated. “Everything,” Adrien replied wearily. “It's hard to keep up with doing it all, but I—it's my responsibility. I inherited a lot of money, so I'm not suffering right now.”

“You—you manage this whole hotel by yourself?” Marinette questioned, watching as he started dishing up the food, eyes widening as he purposely set out a plate for her, too. “That sounds horrible.”

From the way there was dust coating the railings of the stairs, it was clear that he was preoccupied most of the time. Marinette wasn't rude enough to point that out, however, as it seemed he had his hands full taking care of Chloé, obeying her whims as she pleased.

“It's a lot,” he replied easily. “That's why when I go out shopping, I try to buy everything in bulk—that's the story behind all the tampons, by the way. If I knew that they'd lead to your friend being enticed inside, I wouldn't have bought them.”

He excused himself briefly, taking two plates into the dining room before he reappeared, breathing into his hands for warmth before he shot her a sheepish smile.

As he handed her cutlery where they stood beside the countless countertops and stoves—where a whole team of chefs should've worked, not a lone tall male—Marinette questioned, “You don't eat with her?”

“No.” Adrien's expression turned sad and closed off as he busied himself with eating, only continuing after a mouthful to say, “Chloé prefers to only see my face when she needs something, so I stay away until she calls.”

“I—” Marinette cut herself off and cleared her throat, eyebrows furrowed from genuine confusion. “Why are you staying here, Adrien? Usually when someone curses another, they don't stick around to watch them suffer.”

Granted, she only had that knowledge from fictional sources, but it made sense. There seemed no logical reason for him to stay with her, caring for her needs, when he'd been the cause of the curse in the first place. A lot of information was kept from her—as they were both secretive, and the slip of true love being the cure had come from him, not Chloé—but felt the need to collect as much as she could, just to know what Nathaniel was getting himself into.

His fascination with Chloé could lead to trouble, especially if her curse developed further to make her dangerous.

The plate was set down on the side, cutlery placed on top of it, as he replied quietly, “I didn't want this to happen, Marinette.”

“But you cursed her,” she pointed out.

“I did,” the blond-haired male confirmed, regret clear in his tone. “I—I was overcome with anger and did something that I'd swore I'd never do, now I'm staying and trying to repent for my sins.”

Well, she hadn't suspected that Chloé had been cursed for no reason. “That doesn't mean you have to dedicate your life to making her happy, not when you're miserable.”

“Just—stay out of it, okay?” Adrien replied, shaking his head as he turned his back to her and started to walk away. The stiff set of his shoulders was all she needed to see to know that he was angry, yet he continued to say, “This doesn't concern you, and I don't need you prying into my business.”

The food he'd generously given her suddenly tasted bland.

So, she left. Marinette gathered her belongings—only the gloves that she'd taken off to eat—and sent a message to Nathaniel saying that she'd be back the following day, if she had time. As it turned out, she didn't, as her parents travelled to see her and offer their condolences for the loss of her job, offering her a space in their home if the situation turned worse. They enquired about Nathaniel, too, asking whether he'd taken any interesting commissions the past few weeks, and she'd given a lopsided smile of amusement at that.

A routine appeared after that. Nathaniel came to hers at the start of a new week, telling her a brief summary of the time he'd spent at the hotel, and she dubiously listened to the conversations they'd had. She learned that Chloé refused to look in any mirrors other than small ones she could hold in her hands to fix her appearance, that her taste in food hadn't changed due to the curse, and that all of her friends had lost contact with her once she'd confined herself in the hotel.

Nathaniel had enquired about love being the cure, questioning whether parental love would work, and the scoff he'd received in return answered his enquiry well. It would, perhaps, if the parent of the cursed one truly loved their child, rather than running away to another country.

Marinette turned up at the hotel the following weekend, sending Nathaniel a message to let her inside. When Adrien opened the door with a blank expression, she knew that their interactions would be awkward. Still, she persisted and trailed behind him, unsure how to initiate conversation well when she'd clearly offended him the last time they'd spoken as she'd been insensitive, poking at what didn't involve her.

“I can help out, if you need me to,” Marinette announced as she walked him brandish a knife and start to prepare to cook. “I'm not here to see Chloé, and we both know that I wouldn't be welcome in there with those two.”

The sound of chopping filled the silence for a bit. ”...You want to help?” Adrien eventually asked, in the same quiet voice that he always did. Other than when he'd scolded her, asking her to stay out of his business, she hadn't heard him raise his voice or sound as animated.

“I've got nothing better to do.” She shrugged. “You can think of it as I'm here to volunteer at the weekends. It gives me something to do, and it lessens your workload, right?”

He didn't reply after that, nor ask her to do anything, so she'd stood there horribly bored in the kitchen until he'd given her a bowl filled with food without any prompting. Marinette thanked him, deciding not to bring up any conversational topics as they ate, and she stayed until it was almost midnight, amazed that Nathaniel and Chloé were still up. She'd trailed after Adrien doing his chores, poking her head into the rooms to take in the decorations and see whether they were still in use, and she'd found the two of them sitting in a lounge, just talking.

After a message to Nathaniel, Marinette left to go back to her apartment. She decided not to return the following day, so it was at the start of the next week that her friend appeared at her front door with a sketchbook tucked underneath his arm.

“You need to see this,” he said as his greeting.

She gestured into her home, used to the abrupt visits after knowing each other for years. Then, as he flipped through the pages that had multiple pictures of the Bourgeois heiress, the latest page was the one that he stopped on.

Marinette accepted the book with careful hands, gazing down at the smudges of pencil. It was a full body drawing, one that showed Chloé's wings spread out around her, and the only difference to the female that she'd seen in person was at the bottom.

“Her feet,” she breathed, shocked. “Are they—”

Nathaniel caught onto her meaning instantly. “Yes,” he confirmed, eyebrows knitted together as he gestured towards the bottom of the picture. “When I woke up yesterday, she was crying in her room and refused to leave. Adrien wouldn't tell me what had happened, and she only came out just before I left to let me see her.”

“She has bird feet,” Marinette mused, utterly baffled by how that had happened at all. It also meant that Chloé couldn't wear high-heeled shoes any more, not when her feet had transformed to have long nails at the end, along with the change of shape that was utterly different to human ones. “Does—do you really think this could get any worse?”

“It will.” He closed the sketchbook and set it aside. “I asked her about it, and she knows what she's cursed to turn into.”

A harpy. Chloé had been cursed by Adrien—a titbit that Nathaniel wasn't aware of yet, and Chloé wanted to keep that to herself—to become a harpy as time passed, and no amount of research on the internet allowed her to find correct information. Harpies were mythological creatures, and there was countless depictions of the creatures, none matching up to the others. Some mentioned the voices and the powers that Chloé had, but most skimmed over that, instead focusing on the appearance.

From what she could tell, a lot of Chloé's body would transform into that of a bird's; she'd develop the legs, perhaps have her arms blend into the wings and become one as time passed, or even have her legs and torso transformed, too. Throughout all of the images, however, it became clear that her face would remain the same.

She wondered whether that was supposed to be reassuring to the blonde. If her face became a bird's, then she wouldn't have to look into the mirror to recognise a small part of herself.

Although she didn't particularly like Chloé, not after the disastrous first meeting where the blonde had been standoffish and rude, she couldn't help but feel sympathy for her and wonder why Adrien had gotten so angry as to curse her.

Perhaps, in time, she'd find out.

-x-

After being accepted for a job that only gave her Saturdays off, Marinette used that one day to spend time at the hotel. Chloé scowled at her and avoided conversation, and the dark-haired female purposely raised a hand to slowly smile and wave in greeting every time they passed ways. Her time there was to make sure that her friend was safe, offering her services for cooking that one evening, as she was going to be fed by Adrien whenever she was around.

He gave up on trying to stop her helping on the third week. Although they weren't friends and worked in silence a lot, Marinette asked him questions about how he'd been when she arrived, only for him to show her the sad smile that never seemed genuine. He yawned a lot, had dark circles underneath his eyes that seemed to be permanent after Chloé's newest addition to her body, and excused himself when Marinette was cooking to do other chores.

As he returned while she was dishing up the food, Marinette asked, “Why are you so tired if it's just the two of you living here?”

Nathaniel stayed there two nights a week in his own room—where he refused to let Adrien change the sheets of, so they were folded on top of the bed and ready for him when he arrived—and although the hotel was large, a lot of it was dusty and untouched, left to bask in the darkness and have sheets covering the furniture.

“I have work to do in the time that Chloé's preoccupied,” was the answer she received.

“Then why are you always cooking her dinners, Adrien?” she persisted, lifting two plates in her hand, moving towards the dining room. “You may have cursed her, but that doesn't make you a servant. You'd be a great guy, if you weren't such a pushover.”

She didn't know his personality. Adrien had never opened up to her more than admitting that he'd made a mistake with the curse, and saying that he was as human as her, which meant that she hadn't actually heard him _laugh_. He seemed to be limited to self-loathing, sadness, and all kinds of negative emotions, preferring to keep to himself and ignore her when she fluttered along behind him, remarking on the décor and the tasks he was busying himself with.

Setting the plates down in front of Chloé and Nathaniel, Marinette turned towards the blonde-haired female and asked, “Why are you so set on doing nothing?”

“I don't know what you mean,” Chloé replied tartly, wings bristling beside her.

Scowling, Marinette crossed her arms across her chest. “Do you know how to cook?”

“No, I do not,” the blonde denied, reaching up to tuck stray hairs behind her ear. “I was raised in a rich household with a personal chef for the family. Do you expect me to know how to do my own laundry, too? Adrien's doing those things to atone.”

“Atone?” Nathaniel questioned, interjecting himself into the conversation. “What do you mean by that? I assumed that he was hired by your father to take care of you.”

As Chloé stiffened again, Marinette let out a sigh and excused herself back to the kitchen. Adrien was washing up the equipment she'd used, not waiting for her to return and do it by herself, coat taken off and his sleeves pushed up so bubbles coating his skin.

Her way of greeting him was to say, “Nathaniel's probably being told that you're the cause of the curse right now.”

“Oh,” the blond-haired male breathed, not offering her another answer.

“You could've offered to show Chloé how to take care of herself, rather than do everything alone,” she started, picking up a towel and drying the plates that he set aside after washing. “It's been, what, almost five months since she was cursed? If you keep going the way you are, you're going to collapse or turn hysterical from the lack of communication.”

He shook his head. “I'm fine with it.”

Knowing that it was useless to try and push further, Marinette decided to amusement herself in another way; instead of allowing her only company in the hotel to wallow, she tried to make him laugh with jokes that popped into her mind, talking enough for the two of them as time passed. Sometimes, she purposely deepened her voice and responded to herself, pretending to be him, because it earned her a small half-hearted smile before he caught himself and it was gone.

It was strange, though. Adrien seemed so adamant that he needed to be sad and miserable, out of sight and only called by the hypnotic sound of Chloé's singing. When Marinette had heard it the first time, the soft croon that travelled through the hallways and lulled her into a sense of comfort, making her shoulders relax as she started to walk in the direction it had came from, Adrien had grabbed onto her arm and promptly placed protective earmuffs on her.

When he'd returned to see her clutching them, her eyebrows furrowed together in a silent question, he'd explained, “What good would a curse be if it could influence the one that cast it?”

Well, she couldn't argue with that.

After two months of visiting, a week or two away from Chloé's inheritance of another harpy trait, they exchanged phone numbers. It was easier than having Nathaniel try and let her in, only for Chloé to demand that Adrien did it instead.

It was unclear whether Nathaniel was gaining any affectionate feelings for Chloé. When they were alone in Marinette's apartment, he told tales of the soft-spoken, self-conscious and vulnerable side to the blonde that he witnessed whenever they were together, only for her to bristle and turn aggressive when Adrien was in the room. It was clear that her hate and dislike was directed at her helper, rather than at her own cursed body. Whether that was a good thing or not had yet to be decided.

“We're friends, I think,” Nathaniel remarked, flipping through the pages to show the detailed sketches that he'd been able to get to showcase Chloé's changed feet. “For some reason, she seems to dislike you. She gets this sour look on her face whenever I mention you, so, I might've purposely talked about you at times to see what she'd do.”

She pursed her lips. “She does know we're not together, right?”

He waved a hand dismissively. “Yes, that was one of her first questions. I think she's still hoping that I'll truly fall in love with her, but I've already explained that none of my relationships have been serious; the closest I've had was with you, and that only lasted a few weeks.”

“You're not—” Marinette cut herself, feeling suddenly awkward as she reached up to fiddle with her hair. “You're not into animals, right? I mean, some people _are—_ ”

Nathaniel laughed abruptly, the sound honest, breathy, and slightly high-pitched from his amusement. “No, I'm not,” he said once he'd gotten his breathing under control, reaching up to wipe his eyes with a grin. “I think that if I do end up getting feelings for her, it will be because of who she is, rather than what she looks like. It's highly unlikely, though.”

The next time she saw Adrien, snow had fallen onto her coat, her fingers felt freezing and her nose was surely bright red. He'd came to the door as soon as she'd been able to send the text—the touch screen hadn't responded to the lack of warmth on her fingertips, she had to get creative—and as soon as she was inside and went to greet him, she sneezed instead.

Adrien cracked a half-hearted smile before leading her through the dark halls, but she'd gotten accustomed to the layout, especially after she was able to look at the map that she'd kept on her desk at home. The things to look out for were the pieces of fabric that were draped over the furniture, as she'd caught her foot on them and almost fallen over more than once. There was no protest as he had her following him into the laundry room, where she wasn't surprised to see that the majority of the machines had been pulled out by the plug to conserve energy.

She wondered about the allowance Chloé was given. The female had once been known for her exquisite, and expensive, taste in clothing, but now she was restricted to what was in her wardrobe already, and shoes were strictly off limits as she couldn't fit her talons in them.

“What will Chloé lose next?” Marinette asked softly as she was founding a sheet.

He didn't stiffen as he continued doing chores. “Below the knee, her legs won't be human any more.”

Taking that into stride, she tried to imagine how that would look on the taller female's body. The feet had already made it hard for her to walk, according to Nathaniel. She enquired quietly, “Will the feathers match her wings?”

“Yes,” Adrien responded. “The pattern changes per person, but hers seem to be quite striking.”

That was a lot of willingly given information. Adrien wasn't walking away or asking for the topic to be changed, so she tried to casually ask, “How many others have you seen who have been cursed?”

The breath he released was audible. “Two others.”

“Oh.” Adrien had said that it had been a mistake to hurt Chloé as he did, but she didn't know about his past. It was unknown to her whether he'd been the one to infect the others, whether he'd stuck around for them, too, making up for the guilty as they transformed into monsters before his very eyes. “What happened to them, in the end?”

As he busied himself by folding, she assumed that there would be no answer. She wasn't offended by that; he had no reason to tell her, after all, so it was a surprise when he quietly uttered, “They're human now.”

She gaped. “They—they found the _cure_? True love?”

“No,” he whispered, eyes staring down at the fabric in his hands. “There's another option, one Chloé won't be able to perform until a year has passed for her. Until that time approaches, she's holding onto the hope that your friend will accept her.”

The confession had her wondering whether they were developing trust between each other. Sure, they spent almost twelve hours together on her one day off each week, with her trying to amuse him by filling in the silence with her ramblings, but she'd assumed that she might've been an annoyance. The only plus side of it was that he had positive interactions, rather than the scathing comments that were aimed at him from Chloé.

Marinette's lips tugged into a smile as she pointed out, “He's accepted her as a friend.”

“Yes,” Adrien confirmed as he stood up, carrying the pile of laundry with him. “That's a lot more than what the other cursed ones had. Their once friends ran away when confronted with the curse, and no one new in their lives stuck around to see the condition worsen.”

After that, she didn't push it further. Adrien disappeared as she cooked dinner, following the recipe that he'd picked out for the evening and bought the ingredients for, and Marinette put music on from her cell phone to liven up the place. With the lack of lighting and large empty hallways, it wasn't a nice place to be in, let alone when it was dark.

She found out that he sometimes released shaky laughs when she used puns. Adrien would smile to himself sometimes before his brow would furrow and it would disappear as he wallowed again, back to the brooding expression that seemed to be almost permanent. Whenever he saw Chloé, the two of them would be in worse moods than when before they'd seen each other—Nathaniel had confirmed as much from his side, too—so on the day that she was there, Marinette tried to volunteer to do what the blonde-haired female wanted.

Chloé didn't use her hypnotic singing down the hallways unless Nathaniel was in the bathroom. It had lured him into the hotel in the first place, and she purposely avoided using it on anyone that was susceptible to it—well, just Nathaniel, because she didn't acknowledge Marinette often. Adrien kept the earmuffs to block out sound nearby, always walking closer and putting them onto her ears when the entrancing sound appeared before he went to see what she wanted.

She decided that Andre Bourgeois couldn't have loved his daughter deeply if he abandoned her so suddenly, closing down their family home and hotel without a second thought. There had been no one hired to take care of her, nothing other than the measly money that paid for the limited bills, and she doubted that the blonde would've been able to care for herself unless she had Adrien. She only wished that their relationship wouldn't have been as toxic as it was.

Nathaniel agreed with her, too. “They resent each other,” the red-head confirmed as he idly pet her cat on the sofa. “Chloé despises him for when he made her, and Adrien's filled with disappointment with himself from cursing her.”

“Have you heard the story of what happened at all?” Marinette questioned, leaning her head back as she stared up at the ceiling, contemplating the origins of the supernatural part of their lives. “Adrien's pretty tight-lipped due to the whole sad image he's got going for him.”

He hummed. “Not in full detail, but Chloé did mention that it was a punishment for something she did.” And with that said, her cat wormed her way onto his lap, paws climbing on top of the sketchbook without a second thought. “Have you tried showing him videos of your cat? That might cheer him up. I know it works when I'm sad.”

So, the next weekend when she arrived, greeting Adrien at the door with a bright smile as she brought hot drinks for the four of them inside, Marinette pulled out her cell phone when they were alone. Nathaniel had thanked her for the cup and stared pointedly at the cursed female until she sighed and said the same, and she'd retreated into another room to sit down beside Adrien and sip their drinks in peace.

“Do you want to see something funny?” she started, illuminating the screen after taking a glove off. The weather was due to warm up in the upcoming weeks, but her fingers still felt cold within the hotel due to the lack of heating. “I promise that it's super cute, too.”

He was somewhat used to her attempts to cheer her up. Adrien rolled his eyes before he took a sip, not giving her a negative answer.

Shifting along the covered sofa, she pressed play on the video and tilted it so he could see the screen. It was a short clip of her cat playing around in her bedroom from earlier that week, a silly act that she'd caught before having to run out to work. She liked to hoard the videos for when she was feeling sad, or when Nathaniel was bored and asked to know what her cat had done.

“This is Tikki and I love her,” the dark-haired female announced proudly, lips stretched into a grin as she looked at the screen. “I've had her since I graduated from university as I wasn't allowed a pet growing up.”

Perhaps she'd expected a laugh, or for him to comment on the pretty dotted fur of her feline, but to see him visibly freeze as he stared wide-eyed at the cell phone in what seemed to be horror wasn't what she'd expected. As the video ended, Marinette watched in shock as tears visibly brimmed in his eyes before he raised his hands to his face, covering the grief-stricken expression from her view.

She raised a hand uncertainly, not knowing whether to try and comfort him as his breathing audibly picked up. Marinette watched with budding guilt welling inside her as he sobbed openly, the most open he'd been about his emotions since they'd met, and the fact that she knew that it was entirely her fault that it had occurred at all made it even worse. With shaky hands, she reached into her coat pocket to retrieve a small packet of tissues, placing them silently beside his thigh for when he needed them.

So, she sat there quietly as he cried, not trying to offer comfort or whisper words to attempt to make him feel better. The Adrien that she'd known for the past two months—almost three—had been eternally sad and guilty, visibly troubled whenever he enjoyed himself. He was constantly clad in the large coat, hair sometimes hidden beneath a hat that couldn't obscure his features, and if she'd seen him walking the streets, she would've thought that he was a normal person.

No matter how he insisted that he was like her, she was convinced that he'd taken the guilt from cursing Chloé to a new level. She'd never heard of a fictional sorcerer that had felt regret from their actions, and the fact that the two of them were antagonistic to each other didn't help the situation.

She wondered how long it had been since he'd let himself cry.

“There's tissues beside you,” Marinette pointed out quietly when he'd pulled his hands back to stare at his damp skin, eyes and nose a matching shade of red that usually only appeared when he was outside in the cold.

Adrien visibly blinked back the moisture building in his eyes as he used the tissues, going through half a packet until he'd gotten his emotions under control. He was sat beside her, eyes swollen from crying and using the tissues to mop up the mess, and there was still the twisting feeling of guilt that it was her fault—no matter how she argued it, her attempts to cheer him up had resulted in a breakdown of sorts, one that must've been pushed back for a while.

His voice was hoarse as he closed his eyes and uttered, “I'm sorry.”

“I—I didn't mean to upset you,” Marinette hastily tried to explain, reaching up to self-consciously play with her hair to distract her fidgeting fingers. “I'm sorry if I've come across as annoying the past few weeks, but I-I just wanted to make you laugh, really.”

“It's not your fault,” he replied before blowing his nose once more, crumpled tissues placed on the coffee table in front of them.

When he tried to return the rest of the packet to her, she shook her head and gestured for him to keep them, just in case. The weather was warming up gradually, so the chances of her suffering from spending too much time outside was decreasing. She was sure that there might've been a stash of supplies in the hotel, filled with countless tissues and the tiny cleaning products that each room was equipped with, yet it seemed that he hadn't gone to collect them yet. She doubted that Chloé had managed to go through them all in almost half a year.

She breathed out audibly. “Do you want me to leave you alone? I don't mind still helping you out with the chores, but I can be quiet as we do them.”

To her surprise, he shook his head. “I like your company, Marinette.”

“Oh.” The dark-haired female blinked. “I—I didn't know that, sorry.”

“Stop apologising,” Adrien retorted, no heat to his words as he offered her a shaky smile. It was one of the closest to a genuine one that she'd received, yet it still didn't meet his green eyes. “You're a pleasant change to the attitude I usually receive in the hotel.”

Well, Chloé's rude attitude wasn't hard to beat. From the glimpses she caught of her, it was hard to believe the side that she showed Nathaniel. Whether it was the blonde-haired female putting on a good front and trying to be a good person around him, and therefore taking her frustrations out on others, she wasn't sure.

As he fiddled with a tissue in his hand, Marinette almost didn't hear it as he confessed in a whisper, “Chloé killed my cat.”

She froze, thinking of the implications. Chloé had said that it was for a mistake, therefore it was possible—

“He—he ran out into the road, and her car hit him,” Adrien rambled, taking in quick and audible breaths that showed his distressed emotions as he kept his eyes squeezed shut. She wasn't sure what kind of expression she was wearing, but it wouldn't have been one of comfort. “She didn't apologise.”

She swallowed. “What?”

“Chloé demanded payment for the damage to her car after running him over,” he admitted, sounding bitter and sad all at once. She watched as his lower limp trembled, tears starting to fall from his squeezed shut eyes. “I—I couldn't think right, and she just kept hounding me for money. I was trying to get his body out—out from underneath her car.”

Warmth appeared in her own eyes from that; she tried not to imagine her own cat in that situation, finding it absolutely horrifying to be told of the insensitivity of Chloé's actions.

Adrien hid his face in his hands again as he sobbed, and she shifted closer and placed a nervous hand on his back in what she hoped to be comfort. He'd been the one to open up to her, so she hoped that it wasn't too intrusive, and that he wouldn't shove her away. As she felt his body move with his sobs, Marinette reached up to wipe at her own damp eyes, knowing that it wasn't the right time to cry herself.

“I'm sorry that happened to you,” Marinette whispered, honest. “What was your cat's name?”

His breathing audibly hitched. “Plagg.”

“I'd—I'd like to hear about him someday, if you ever want to share,” she replied tentatively. If he'd loved his cat enough to curse another—something that he'd never wanted to do—then it must've been hard keeping it to himself. “And... I mean, if you need someone to talk to about your problems, I'll make sure to bring along some more tissues.”

A shaky laugh escaped him.

-x-

The following week while she was working, and Nathaniel stayed at his apartment to sort out commissions, Chloé lost her legs below her knees. The feathers matched her wings—primarily yellow—and she refused to come out of her room until Nathaniel came to visit. The sound of her high-heeled shoes had already been replaced by the scratching of her talons along the floor, and the next time she came to visit, Chloé switched the skirts to long ones, attempting to hide the feathers that were were lurking beneath.

Adrien looked tired as ever, yawning in greeting as he unlocked the door for her. Marinette ended up pointing him to a sofa and demanding that he take a nap when she made dinner, just so the dark circles underneath his eyes would let up. Before that, he told her about the work that he did for his job that happened during the short hours he had on his laptop's battery. As there was no internet at the hotel, he loaded the files he needed beforehand, travelling to and from his home during the day to collect belongings he needed.

Although their relationship was frosty, Chloé had offered him a room to stay in. He slept in it nightly, only managing to travel back to his previous home during the week to sort out his personal affairs. When Marinette asked about what he told his friends to explain his lack of time, he'd half-heartedly shrugged his shoulders and said that he didn't have any.

“I'm your friend,” the dark-haired female pointed out immediately, furrowing her eyebrows as he turned to look at her in surprise. “I am, right?”

“Well,” Adrien started, a hand reaching up to clasp the nape of his neck self-consciously. “If you want to be?”

A smile tugged on her lips from the lack of rejection. “Of course.” Marinette openly beamed at him. “Friends help each other carrying towels, though. Here you go.” And with that said, she cheekily pushed the folded laundry that she'd been busy with into his arms, amusement increasing from the bewildered expression on his face.

A few weekends later, her parents stopped by to spend time with her, so she wasn't able to visit the hotel. She'd messaged both Nathaniel and Adrien to tell her of her absence, and she received short and straight to the point replies from the both of them. Her parents happily played with her cat while recounting stories of their days, interested in the tales of her new job and what Nathaniel was up to. They'd grown fond of him all those years ago, even more so when he was happy to test out the book they'd baked to experiment.

So, it was with a cake that they'd gifted her packaged in her hands and Nathaniel by her side that they approached the _Bourgeois Hotel_ during the start of the week, a time that the both of them hadn't visited during the time that they hadn't been temporarily held hostage.

As her hands were filled with the box, Nathaniel was the one to call Adrien's cell phone. It was luck that he was there at all, opening their designated door a few minutes later with a jacket on, rather than the heavy coat for the winter. Marinette had already wondered whether the weather would become unbearably hot for Chloé due to her cursed state, commenting that it was lucky that she already owned the summer dresses that she'd started wearing due to her legs.

“What are you two doing here?” Adrien questioned, looking perplexed between the two of them.

Marinette gestured with her chin towards the box in her hands. “I got given cake to share with friends, so I thought you might like some.”

“Chloé, too,” Nathaniel interjected, raising his eyebrows at Marinette's frown. He'd been insisting that she and Chloé would get along if they stopped frowning at each other whenever they made eye contact, since they'd only had limited conversations. “Unless this is a bad time?”

“Oh, no.” Adrien shook his head as he left the door open for them to follow him inside. The light that travelled through the cracks in the planks of wood covering the windows streamed through, making it a lot easier to navigate the darkened halls when there was still sunlight. “Chloé's practising piano right now.”

“Really?” the red-haired male remarked, eyes travelling towards the dusty staircases. “Which floor would that be on? She's too shy to let me hear her normally.”

With a half-hearted laugh, Adrien replied, “Third. The door's not fully closed, so you'll be able to figure out which if she's taking a break.”

Nathaniel disappeared after that, and Marinette was comfortable enough to direct herself into the kitchen, setting the box down on the countertop as she selected the plates she wanted, along with the clean cutlery. Adrien watched her in what seemed to be amusement as she made herself at home, smiling brightly as she unwrapped the packaging and allowed him to see the decorated cake that was within.

“That looks expensive,” was his first response.

She snorted. “It was free from my parents.”

“Are they friends with the bakers?” he questioned, peering closer to see the details that had been added on top. “It looks like something that's reserved for special occasions.”

“They own a pâtisserie on the other side of town,” Marinette explained as she started to carefully cut the slices. “They know that I don't buy much junk food by myself, so it's a treat every now and then when they come to visit.”

His smile was still half-hearted as he remarked, “That's nice of them.”

“What about your parents?” she questioned innocently, wondering whether she could learn more about him due to the kind gesture. “You don't have to tell me, not if you don't want to, but I hardly know anything about you, Adrien.”

With his elbows resting against the countertop beside her, his head was tilted slightly as he replied, “You know all the important things.”

It was easy to argue with that—the things she knew about him were mostly negative, the sad details that meant his smile didn't meet his eyes. She wanted to know about what films he liked to watch, his preferred type of music, not leaving the information she knew to be that he'd once been capable of destroying someone's life with a curse. Even though Chloé had been outrageously rude—a story that she hadn't told Nathaniel, as it felt personal and not what she was meant to share—that didn't mean that she'd received all the details to be able to judge it.

“Not really,” the dark-haired female disagreed, sliding a plate other to him. As she gathered up the other two to take upstairs, Marinette allowed her parting words to be, “I know that you had a cat you loved dearly, and you're human as everyone else because you make mistakes.”

There was a smattering of redness across Chloé's cheeks as she delivered the cake to her and Nathaniel. There wasn't even a glare directed her way as she entered the room, and her red-headed friend discreetly raised his eyebrows right back from noticing it, too.

“Hey,” Adrien greeted her as she re-entered, gesturing towards two steaming mugs that he'd placed beside their plates. “My mother's dead.”

She almost tripped.

“Oh, fuck, I didn't mean it like that,” the blond-haired male rambled from the abrupt confession, touching his cheek self-consciously as he took in her bewildered state. “Well, I _did—_ this isn't coming out great.”

Well, at least he was trying to open up to her. Marinette tried not to laugh, really, but from the colour that had appeared on his cheeks from embarrassment, the fact that he was still clutching at his face as though he'd committed a moral error, and the way he was standing there towering above her made it so quiet laughter escaped her lips.

When she saw his eyes widen, Marinette was the one to place a hand to her mouth, horrified. “I wasn't laughing that she's dead, I promise!” she exclaimed, loud voice echoing within the empty kitchen. “I—I just thought you were pretty cute just then.”

He blinked. “Oh.”

“I—yeah,” she replied coherently. “I'm sorry for your loss.”

Shaking his head so some of the golden-coloured strands fell into his eyes, Adrien replied, “It's okay, it was a long time ago.”

“Thanks for telling me,” she said honestly, smiling as she collected the plates and directed them into the dining room to sit down. Adrien placed the mug in front of her once more, sitting across from her on the table that Chloé usually occupied. It was the only one in the large dining room that had an actual tablecloth on it, not a large piece of fabric to stop the table from being dusty. “What about your father?”

His cutlery made noise against the plate. “I haven't spoken to him in a few years, so I don't know.”

“Oh,” Marinette remarked dumbly. “Are—are you okay with that?”

It took a while for him to respond, as he was busying himself with eating slowly first and taking a sup of his drink. “Yes,” Adrien replied, clearing his throat afterwards, eyes trained down at the table. “He... I was in some trouble a few years ago, and he left just like Andre. I, at least, had a larger allowance when it happened, and was given the apartment I'm still living in.”

Andre Bourgeois wasn't going to win an award for being a good father any time soon. “At least he didn't leave you because you sprouted wings, right?” Marinette joked.

The flatness to his expression made her heart clench.

“ _Right_?” she asked, a lump caught in her throat as she waited for the denial, the answer that she was making an inappropriate joke, _anything—_

He wasn't saying anything. Adrien kept his gaze firmly averted, staring down at the table and fiddling with the cake, not raising the cutlery to his mouth. An uncomfortable feeling became apparent in her stomach as she thought of the implications, knowing that he wasn't the type to joke around—she could count on one hand the number of times he'd joked, actually.

So, it was with a heavy heart that she whispered, “Were you—”

Marinette cut herself off and shook her head. Adrien had already told her stories; the alternative cure if true love couldn't be found, never going into detail about what it involved. It was only possible after a year had passed after gaining the curse, and the two that had been involved with it had become human again.

He was human, he'd said. Adrien had stated that he wasn't capable of supernatural feats any more, not with the way he was.

“You were a harpy.” It wasn't a question from her lips as she looked at him with wide eyes, heart beating madly in her chest from the surge of adrenaline from connecting the dots. “The—the thing you never wanted to do, it was you passing on the curse.”

It shouldn't have been possible. Then again, none of the supernatural things that she'd seen should have been. She'd witnessed the curse infecting Chloé's body as the months passed by, the rare smile only gracing her face when she was in Nathaniel's presence.

“She can't pass it back to you, can she?” Marinette asked desperately, staring at him from across the table. She took in the attractive features of his face, the tall body with entirely human limbs, trying to image how monstrous he must've looked with his size when the curse had changed him. “That's why her singing doesn't enthral you any more, isn't it?”

It was adding up into a depressing and impossible tale that had her filling with sympathy for him. Marinette tried to imagine him as he was cursed, trapped in a monstrous body with a cat as his company. It made sense of his remark of the hypnotic singing not causing him to become hypnotised, also the gilt from sticking around, and the knowledge of how the curse would develop. Marinette felt sick as she tried to imagine anyone else changed by it, horrified that such a thing could've been passed between people without leaving any physical evidence.

Adrien continued to stare down. “Yes,” he confirmed quietly, voice soft and vulnerable all at once. “The only other cure than finding love is horrific, and it involves passing the curse onto another purposely.”

“So, when she killed Plagg...”

“I cursed her.” Adrien ran a hand roughly over his face, features pinched together. “Plagg escaped and I can ran out into the street in a large coat to hide my condition. Then, Chloé happened.”

Her eyes stung as she blinked. “How long had you been cursed before then?” she questioned softly, hands reaching out to hold the mug to stop her from trying to reach across to him. From the body language of him curling into himself, she knew it wouldn't be appreciated. “You said—you said it was something you'd never wanted to do.”

“Two years,” he revealed in a whisper.

The passing of the curse was only available after a full year. Adrien had stayed in his body, hiding away in an apartment while his father disappeared with his cat, only for the grief of his feline's abrupt departure to influence his actions. The thought of him hiding his form in the street, stricken from Chloé's sudden appearance had her stomach churning uncomfortably.

“I'm so sorry,” Marinette choked out, staring at him with wide and itchy eyes that had tears welling in them, willing for him to look up, to finally stop averting his gaze. “You—no one deserves that. It's not your fault, Adrien.”

“I cursed someone as I was,” the blond denied, a self-deprecating smile on his lips as he shook his head, eyes shut. “There's no excuse for the forcing someone else to experience what I did, no matter their actions.”

Her voice was shaky as she pointed out, “She killed your only friend.”

“That doesn't make it fair for me to take away her entire life,” Adrien retorted, sounding heated as he ran a frustrated hand through his hair. A sigh audibly escaped his lips before he continued on to say, “I stole her humanity for myself because I was blinded by anger, Marinette.”

All she'd wanted to do was offer him cake and maybe have a nice conversation and try to make him smile. She'd expected Nathaniel and Chloé to venture off by themselves—as the blonde still wasn't fond of spending time with the one that had cursed her, and grew frigid around Marinette—but not for Adrien to open up to her again. There was nothing that she could do to convince him that he hadn't done something horrible—because he _had_.

He'd made a mistake that he was trying to make up for by managing a darkened hotel by himself, obeying Chloé's whims and listening to her whine when they were alone, caring for her needs rather than teaching her how to do it herself. Adrien was a being of sadness and guilt wrapped up into one, someone that she couldn't comfort well due to their only just budding friendship.

“I'm not saying that what you did was okay, but you were suffering from witnessing something traumatic,” Marinette started, voice soft and tentative as she gripped the mug tightly in her hands.

His hands had fallen onto his lap as he stared blankly at the table. “It's no excuse.”

There was nothing she could say to convince him otherwise. Adrien was set on condemning himself for his actions, and although he'd opened up in their few months together, it wasn't enough to be able to have him trust her words.

It was with a lump in her throat that she kept her lips pursed together.

Their following days spent together—weekends, she hadn't stopped in during her work days since the cake—were spent with her trying to cheer up him again, showing silly pictures she'd saved onto her cell phone, amusing videos that she'd bookmarked specifically for him, and jokes that she'd found amusing. He hadn't had time to watch much television since before his time at the hotel, so he was horribly behind on the shows that he'd been watching, which meant Marinette accidentally spoiled a plot twist that she'd found fascinating.

“I'm so sorry!” she cried, voice loud and echoing through the room they were in.

It was then that she found out that when he smiled genuinely, dimples appeared on his cheeks. The way that it had brightened up his expression, the corners of his eyes changing due to the movement of his cheeks, was a vast contrast to how glum he'd looked before.

Marinette might've stared at him for longer than necessary.

He seemed to be cheering up around her, the more they spent time together. Marinette noticed that the smiles when he let her inside the buildings started to show the indents of his cheeks, that the laughter didn't feel half-hearted as she made stupid jokes when they were sitting in a living room together, and it seemed that their friendship was only improving as the days passed.

Sometimes, Nathaniel would try to invite the two of them to eat with him and Chloé, only for the blonde-haired female to stiffen and silently object with her eyes, with most of the negativity aimed at Adrien. It seemed that getting the two to interact was hard, even more so when they wanted it to be in a positive light, rather than Chloé openly picking on his visible insecurities and guilt.

It wasn't as though she was innocent.

Chloé had confessed what had happened to Nathaniel a week before the newest addition of the curse. When the red-head had sat on the sofa in her apartment, idly petting her cat as he confessed that he knew what had happened between the two of them at the hotel to have their relationship be so sad, it made the conflicting feelings build up within her.

“I know, too,” she admitted quietly.

It was later that evening as they were watching television together that he mused, “Since our theory of parental love can't be tested, how about we get Chloé a pet? That's true love.”

As nice as the thought was, she had to point out, “That didn't work with Adrien. He was cursed for two years.”

Nathaniel's hair slapped his cheeks as he turned around to look at her incredulously. “What?”

“What?” she parroted back, befuddled.

“ _Cursed_?” the red-head repeated, voice loud enough to be heard clearly above the noise of the television. “What are you talking about, Marinette?”

It occurred to her then that, maybe, Chloé hadn't shared the full story with him. Marinette pondered on whether it was her right to tell him about him, but decided that it wasn't fair to let that slip and then refuse to reveal the rest. She told him how Adrien had been isolated with his cat as his friend, how he hid his cursed body in a large coat to follow the feline when he'd escaped outside, only for Chloé to appear. It added up to the versions of events that Nathaniel had been told before—the only thing Chloé had skipped on was the fact that Adrien had been cursed, and that there was a potential other cure.

“It's not a cure,” Marinette denied, swallowing thickly. “It's stealing someone else's humanity to return their own, and it can only happen after a year of the curse. I don't know whether that's when they gain the power, or if it requires them to be familiar enough with their body to cast it. Adrien—Adrien gets sad when I ask about it.”

Nathaniel leaned back against the seat, staring at the ceiling. “Yeah, I can see why.”

“They really hate each other, don't they?” she mused, reaching up to tuck a stray hair behind her ear. “I don't think there's anything we can do to make it okay between them.”

The red-head reached down to idly pet her cat as he asked, “Do you know from Adrien if she's apologised for his cat? Chloé doesn't really talk about her life from before often. It's hard enough finding out who's in the photographs in her room.”

“I'm not sure,” she admitted, eyebrows furrowing. “It's not like a sincere apology would cure the curse, so I doubt she's tried. I can ask, though.”

As it turned out, she hadn't. While Chloé refused to come out of her room due to the rest of her legs transforming and being covered in feathers—not coming out for meals or to meet Nathaniel until his last moments before he arrived the next week—Marinette had softly asked Adrien whether he'd been given the apology, and he'd half-heartedly shrugged his shoulders and replied that he didn't deserve one, not when he'd retaliated with something equally bad.

The problem was that he constantly apologised for it. Adrien had dedicated eight months of his life—the first eight after having a cursed body for two years—to caring and providing for the blonde-haired female, trying to make amends for his actions, and that just irritated her.

Adrien was stubborn and thought that he deserved nothing, and Chloé was infuriating and thought that she was above apologising for her actions. It was no wonder that they butted heads and despaired when they spoke to each other.

Nathaniel had to cancel one weekend at the hotel due to a terrible cold. He'd sent a message to Adrien to explain his absence, and when Marinette arrived on her day off from work, she was determined.

“Hey,” she greeted Adrien, breezing past him, keeping the jacket on due to the cold rooms. “Where's Chloé at?”

As he followed after her—he'd learned to lock the door long ago—the blond sounded amused as he replied, “Upstairs? I think she's wallowing by her piano again. I haven't gone up there to ask for her washing yet.”

“Don't,” Marinette demanded brightly, heading straight for the staircase, avoiding touching the dusty railings. “Better yet, why don't you go home for a few hours and finish any work you have to do for your job? If there's nothing, take a nap.”

“What?” Adrien asked eloquently.

Looking over her shoulder and shooting him a bright grin that showed her teeth, and perhaps looked predatory, Marinette announced, “I'm going to spend the day with her while you're gone.”

Hair fell into his eyes as he shook his head. The strands had grown to be just below his earlobes, bangs brushed his forehead for visibility. “You don't have keys to get out, and I'm not leaving the door open, not again.”

“Lock me inside and come back after a few hours,” she called, raising a hand to wave as she ascended the stairs, not giving him a chance to argue.

It was a plan that she'd wanted to do, or persuade Nathaniel to be a part of, and since her friend was ill, she felt that the duty fell on to her shoulders. Nathaniel had been asking her to try and get along with Chloé, so the thought of spending an afternoon alone with her wasn't too daunting. If anything, Marinette knew that if she grew too annoying, the worst that could happen was being knocked unconscious. She only hoped that the blonde-haired female would have the decency to at least put her on something soft afterwards.

The room was easy to find. As Adrien had said before, the door had been left open, so it was easy to identify which one was in use. Chloé was within a large room that had once been a lounge of sorts, a lone piano in front of large windows that had been bordered up, and the curtains were carelessly shoved aside. A tall lamp stood beside the piano to illuminate it, as the small beams of sunshine through the wood wasn't enough.

Chloé was idly playing two notes repetitively with her back to the door.

Marinette announced her presence by clearing her throat loudly.

Jumping slightly, the cursed female turned her head around to face the door so fast that her long hair was lifted in the air briefly. When she saw who it was, however, her hopeful expression crumbled into a frown as he muttered, “Oh, it's you.”

“Yes, it's me.” Marinette beamed, footsteps loud against the floorboards as she approached. She took in the long dress that Chloé was wearing, noting that it was one more suited for the summer, rather than late spring. “I'm here on Nathaniel's request for us to spend some time together. He's quite insistent that we should get along.”

The blonde snorted. “Right.”

“No, really,” she replied brightly, standing beside where she was sat. “Whenever he comes to visit, he spends at least ten minutes trying to convince me to spend time with you. After I didn't stay to watch you eat the cake I brought, he was terribly disappointed with me.”

“It was a nice cake,” Chloé admitted begrudgingly. “I've had some ordered from there before.”

Well, that was something Nathaniel hadn't mentioned. “Really?” Marinette questioned, waiting for confirmation. At the nod she received in return, she was openly surprised as she said, “Well, that's surprising. I wasn't expecting that.”

Chloé laughed. “You weren't expecting me to eat cake?”

“Well, not really, not unless you had a really good personal trainer, considering your physique,” Marinette babbled, a hand gesturing towards where she was sat. As she realised her words—and saw the darkened expression on the taller female's face—she raised her hands in a sign of surrender. “Shit, I didn't mean to say that. I just—you're still pretty, okay?”

Chloé's narrowed her eyes at her and said sarcastically, “Thank you so much for that.”

“Fuck, okay, I've offended you already.” Marinette ran a hand through her hair almost tugging it out of her ponytail. “That wasn't on my agenda for today.”

“Reassuring.”

She shrugged. “We're going to spend quality time together and I'm going to take photo proof with my phone to send to Nathaniel,” the dark-haired female proclaimed, gesturing for Chloé to stand up. “The first thing we're doing is your laundry. Dirty stuff in your room as usual, yes?”

It was frustrating, but it took bribing Chloé with some information about Nathaniel to get her to stand up, collect her clothing and carry it to the washing machines. There was a moment of humour where her wings had hit the frame of the door as she passed through, pausing her to swear and stumble before grabbing onto Marinette for stability.

Once Chloé had shoved herself away with redness to her cheeks, Marinette went on to dramatically gesture to the controls, explaining how to use it properly despite how disinterested the blonde looked. It turned into an amusing affair as Chloé cursed underneath her breath when she pressed the wrong buttons or a piece of clothing fell onto the floor, the two of them taking entirely too long to do such a simple task.

Marinette found herself smiling by the end of it, laughing as a glare was directed her way.

“Okay, okay,” the dark-haired female said, voice breathy from the laughter. “The reason Nathaniel and I don't live together—despite our initial plans—is because of my cat.”

“I wouldn't move in with you, even if you ditched the cat,” was the grumbled response she heard.

Marinette pretended not to hear it, though she did snort. “He doesn't like anyone touching his artwork without permission, even if it's in the form of little paws. When he draws while over at my place, he lets my cat climb all over him and his work—it just depends on whether he allows it himself.”

“And this is helpful to me, how?” Chloé asked, sounding frustrated as he brushed the fluff from her dress.

She rolled her eyes. “I'm telling you he has a weakness for animals, especially little ones that are able to climb all over him. He's really bad at saying no to them.”

“Very helpful,” the blonde retorted, lips pulled down in a frown. “I'm cursed as a big bird, not a cat.”

That wasn't the point that she was getting at, but she could understand how she came to it. Marinette tried not to sound too aggressive or rude as she patiently explained, “I mean, that's not exactly what I was hinting at. I just—it's pretty awful when someone abuses a small animal, don't you agree?”

She could see the moment where Chloé comprehended her words. The cursed female had opened her mouth to reply, only to close it shut as she averted her blue-coloured eyes, lips pressed into a tight line. It wasn't an expression of someone that had no regrets; if anything, Marinette could say that it seemed somewhat guilty.

“I'm not here to preach at you,” she said quietly, hands clasped in front of her to stop her from reaching out. Although the wings were kept by Chloé's side, they were still imposing and threatening, especially when they fluttered out and stretched. “I can't tell you the amount of stupid shit that I've gotten into, but I learned to apologise when I was in the wrong.”

Chloé sighed as she ran a hand through her hair. She looked at Marinette with tired eyes as she asked, “Why are you even here, Marinette?”

There were a few reasons; to try and ease the negative relationship Chloé had with Adrien, please Nathaniel with their attempt at bonding, and make it so the blonde was able to fend for herself, rather than having to rely on others, as she'd done for most of her life.

So, it was with a smile as she brightly replied, “I'm here to teach you how to cook dinner.”

Chloé's expression turned dubious. “You were hounding me for my mistakes not even two minutes ago.”

“Well, no,” she denied, shrugging as she approached the door. “I want to help you become a better person, but since we're skipping a few steps, I think you learning how to make food for yourself would be a good one to go to. If you want, I could even teach you to bake. I doubt Adrien does it often.”

The blonde followed her to the kitchen, nails replicating the sound her high-heeled shoes used to make across the floor. The doors inside the restaurant's kitchen were wide enough for her not to be hindered by her wings, and Marinette held one door open for her and purposely bowed, laughing when she saw the glare that was sent her way.

“Isn't it too early for dinner?” Chloé pointed out despite the fact that they'd entered the kitchen, not musing her doubts before then.

Marinette's grin was wide as she said, “I'm not sure how bad you'll be in the beginning, so we might as well practice some easy things now before we try to actually tackle something more difficult.”

The extent of Chloé's knowledge in the kitchen was limited to the kettle, microwave, and toaster. Yet, as Marinette withdrew some of the ingredients that were kept in the cupboards and storage room—noting that the fresh ingredients were lacking, but the packaged flour and other such products were lasting well despite the months the restaurant had been closed for—there weren't any voiced complaints.

Chloé did swear, make sarcastic comments, and ask her of her ulterior motives more than once, but it was mostly an enjoyable experience. When the oil grew hot and started to spit in the pan, the blonde-haired female had shrieked and jumped back, wings knocking into Marinette, causing her to sneeze as they slapped her in the face.

That had made the two of them laugh hysterically until the crackling of the oil called their attention to it.

The dinner they'd eventually made wasn't too inedible. Some of it was burned, another undercooked, but Chloé didn't put it straight into the bin—instead, she marched purposely towards the restaurant section, turning the switch on so the area near her designated table was the one part illuminated. Bemused, Marinette followed after her, cutlery for the both of them clutched in her hands as she tried not to drop anything.

Chloé didn't complain about the taste as she ate.

“I want to do that again,” the blonde admitted after swallowing a mouthful, the sound of her voice loud compared to the silence that they'd been sat in before. “All of it, actually. I don't want to be helpless.”

Marinette nodded, understanding. “I only have Saturdays off, so it can't be me,” she pointed out, the widening of her eyes only just missed as Chloé was busy eating, not realising her sudden idea. “Nathaniel can help you when he's here on Friday, but... I think you should ask Adrien for advice.”

The other visible reaction to the suggest was Chloé's hand tightening around her cutlery. “And why would I do that?”

“He's the only person that knows what you're feeling and experiencing,” she explained, trying her best to make the idea sound appealing. “He managed to live by himself for two years, so there's countless things he can teach you, stuff that Nathaniel and I wouldn't think of.”

With her lips curling into a frown, the blonde-haired female sighed as she put the cutlery down, clearly losing her appetite despite how happy she'd been with the finished product. “I—no.” She shook her head, wings moving by her sides from the movement. “We just piss each other off. At least with you I can feel justified with my anger.”

“I'm sorry?” Marinette blurted, surprised by the mention of the dislike that was directed towards her. “What did I do? You've been pretty much hating me since before I even saw you.”

“You're human.”

She frowned right back. “Yes, and? Nathaniel's human, too.”

“You're not getting it.” Chloé's upper lip curled in distaste. “You're everything I lost; a pretty-faced human girl. There's no wings, horrifying feet or feathers instead of hairs on your legs. Fuck, I don't even know what my legs are like underneath. I'm trying to avoid touching them as much as possible.”

Her first reaction was to dumbly say, “Oh.” She knew that pity wasn't what Chloé wanted to see—nor sympathy for her situation—so, she decided to do the next best thing. “I could come here some evenings to make dinner with you during the week, if you want? I'd have to message Adrien to say whether I can make it or not, but this way you'll learn a new recipe each time.”

There was a moment of silence where she expected to be rejected. It wasn't as though they were friends; Marinette had held dislike for the female before she'd known about the curse due to the locked room and having Adrien act as a henchman, but her disdain had dwindled as she learned of the isolated nature of Chloé's life the past months.

Chloé's voice was soft as she asked, “Why?”

“Well, it's not good to eat the same thing everyday,” Marinette responded instantly, trying to insert humour from the sudden awkwardness between them. There had been no fond feelings between the two of them for the past five months, and then, suddenly, she was spending a whole day with her and offering more time. “And, honestly, you're not as bad as I originally thought. You're not calling me a pet any more.”

Chloé's eyes flickered up to meet hers. They were a lighter blue than her own, but still similar. It was the golden-stained eyelashes that set the two of them apart.

Then, a smile blossomed across the blonde's lips, one that was small, uncertain, and shy all at once. “I'm sorry for knocking you out.”

She blinked. “I—I'm sorry for breaking in? Well, no. I think it was more trespassing since Adrien left the door open. He's learned to lock it after himself now, though.”

It wasn't friendship, but it was a start.

“I'm not going to apologise for locking you in a room, though. Your brilliant escape plan would've only led to unwanted trouble,” Chloé continued, showing her teeth as she grinned in a predatory way.

“It's fine.” Well, it wasn't really. “I get why you had to do it, I just hope you don't have to do it to anyone else,” Marinette responded, shrugging her shoulders lightly. “I—I know I'm overstepping here, but I have something to ask you.”

Humming, the blonde-haired female leaned back in her seat and crossed her arms beneath her chest. “Let me pick what you teach me to cook next week, and yes.”

“Okay, I can agree to that,” she said, readily accepting. “I understand that you're willing to talk to Nathaniel because he didn't run away at the sight of you, but...” Marinette trailed off as she reached up to fiddle with her hair. “I just want to know if your feelings for him are genuine, or if you're pinning all your hopes of a cure on him reciprocating those feelings.”

“Oh,” Chloé breathed. “If you're worried that I'll pass the curse onto him, I can promise that's not my intention. It's just—I like having a friend.”

There was no denial of her feelings, though. Honestly, Marinette had no say in Chloé and Nathaniel's relationship, but she had a right to be worried of the result of it. Her friend was convinced that they were platonic, merely friends because of Chloé's need to talk to those outside of Adrien, but there was a stark difference between the way the blonde interacted with Nathaniel than Marinette.

She nodded. “Okay.”

“Just okay?” The blonde tilted her head slightly. “Where's the threatening of bodily harm or other such things?”

It wasn't right to reply that enough misfortune had already happened to her, so Marinette easily replied, “That's not really my style. I'll just over season your food when you're not looking.”

A honest laugh escaped her, and it sounded almost as nice as her singing.

-x-

At first, Adrien was baffled at her cooking with Chloé twice a week. Marinette had a routine to visit twice on the days that she was working, and then when it came to the weekend, the blonde and Nathaniel cooked together, making it a drastic contrast to how it was when she first started coming to the hotel. When Nathaniel had been happily roped into her plan of getting Chloé to be self-sufficient, he'd somehow managed to convince the four of them that they should eat together.

So, on Saturday nights, Adrien and Marinette sat at the one table that was made up in the restaurant, making conversation as the other two could be heard distantly laughing in the kitchen.

As Chloé had insisted on doing her own laundry after learning how—Marinette had also left a piece of paper taped onto the machine that explained the details, in case she was forgetful—it meant that Adrien's workload was lessened. He was able to devote time to his work on the limited battery he had on his laptop during the day, listening out for whether his assistance was required. The two of them weren't often in the same rooms, so the fact that they were willingly eating together seemed almost monumental.

Nathaniel awkwardly opened their first dinner's conversation with, “I heard a rumour that the hotel's haunted.”

It wasn't perfect, but at least all of their interactions were somewhat friendly. Chloé had stopped glaring at her when they made eye contact on her visits, were able to have conversations where they honestly laughed, and while Adrien was stiff and awkward at their shared dinners at first, he didn't look as exhausted. He made sure to compliment Chloé and Nathaniel for the food each week, only pointing out the good bits, even if something was burnt on his plate (Marinette had noted in amusement that he'd gotten the messiest plate most of the time).

He started showing her pictures of Plagg, too. Unlike her cat, his short fur had been fully black and he'd had green eyes that were often caught shining brightly in the pictures that Adrien kept on his cell phone. The background was one of him and Plagg a few months before the accident, and Adrien had draped a blanket across him to hide the wings, though they were recognisable due to the shape underneath the material.

He was brightening up as they spent time together, and somehow that had evolved into Marinette bringing her laptop with her at the weekend, so the four of them could watch films together. It was something that she usually did with Nathaniel only, yet it wasn't too awkward. Chloé had pulled out the large blankets that she kept in her room, draping them around her as a cape for transport, and happily shared one with the red-head, while she threw the other in Adrien's general direction without a rude comment.

Adrien laughed at that, and it was such a vast improvement to the sighs and sad comments that he'd released half a year ago.

Of course, it wasn't all happy. Sometimes, Chloé locked herself up in her bedroom during their visits, even refusing to see Nathaniel when she was too emotional. The curse had finished altering her body; according to Adrien, after the legs had developed, nothing else changed. She was stuck in a period of waiting for the year mark that allowed her to transfer the curse, left with her monstrous body.

Feathers floated around the hallways at times, and almost clogged the drains, and Chloé was agitated and irritated whenever she had to brush her wings or dry her legs. The long dresses could only hide so much, and she'd commented that wearing a coat to cover the wings was horribly uncomfortable and restricting (which proved how much Adrien had suffered when he'd ran out after Plagg). Nathaniel had commented that her feathers were a lovely shade of yellow, but it hadn't cheered her up much.

It was clear that when the red-head complimented her on anything other than the cursed parts of her body, Chloé immensely enjoyed the attention and looked pleased, a dusting of pink appearing on her cheeks at times. Marinette never addressed the sudden shyness that sometimes appeared, or the sharp retorts that Nathaniel earned when they ate dinner together, but it was painfully obvious that Chloé was harbouring a crush.

Nathaniel was aware of it, too.

“I don't know what to do about that,” he'd mused as they were in Marinette's living room, once again devoting his attention to her cat that purred from his gentle hands. “I mean—I like her, but she'd expect a lot more from a relationship than I'm used to.”

She nodded her head slowly. “That's not what's important, though. I asked you this before but... Nathaniel, do you like her?”

“Well, yes. I did just say that.” He blinked, turquoise-coloured eyes staring at her. “I don't know whether to call it true love? If I profess my love for her and nothing happens, she'll be crushed. I'd rather not admit to my feelings than risk the chance of ruining her by not breaking the curse.”

“Yeah, I can see your point,” Marinette whispered, leaning back against her seat. There was no doubt that there would be expectations upon the two of them, and the sorrow of it not being enough to break the curse had the potential to ruin their friendship. “Love doesn't happen instantly, you know? It's not like you have to actually be in a relationship with her to love her, too. If anything, you not dating her would lessen the grossness of any potential petting.”

His fingers stilled upon her cat. “Please, don't ruin the word petting for me.”

“It depends on how heavy it would be,” she shot right back, amusement clear in her voice. “Be the loving in silence type unless you want feathers in your mouth.”

Groaning, Nathaniel pleaded, “Please, shut up.”

“Try not to choke on them.”

A pillow was thrown her way, and Tikki was startled by the sudden movement and Marinette's loud laughter.

-x-

The first time she bumped into Adrien at the supermarket, she understood why Nathaniel had been so intrigued by his purchases. The basket was almost overflowing from noodles, and yet he was still picking out different flavours of instant ones, sometimes flipping them over to read the back for the information. Marinette had paused in the aisle, unsure whether to approach him or not.

They'd never really spent time together outside of the hotel. In fact, Marinette had only seen him limited times before their unfortunate encounter at the hotel, and then afterwards, he'd always appeared behind her or opened the door to let her inside. There had been no coincidental meetings in the streets that led them to getting coffee and chatting, no seeing each other across a restaurant, or any of the other random meetings that she'd experienced with her other friends.

Marinette switched the basket into her other hand as she stood beside him, peering at the brightly-coloured packaging in front of them. “Are you sure it's a good idea to buy so much instant food?”

He jumped, dropping the packet that he'd been holding onto the floor, but thankfully keeping a hold of his basket, as he turned to look at her with widened green eyes. “Marinette?” Adrien questioned, voice higher-pitched than usual due to the surprise.

“Oh, so you do recognise me outside of the hotel.” She grinned widely, holding her basket with two hands in front of her. “Do you just enjoy purchasing one thing in bulk each time?”

The packet he was holding was quickly shoved into his basket, and then the hand went to rub at the nape of his neck as redness appeared on his cheeks—it was a shy and embarrassed expression that she hadn't associated with him often, especially not in place with real lighting. Now that they weren't underneath the dim and limited bulbs of the hotel, she was able to see the blond at the end of his eyelashes, and the bright shade of his eyes clearly.

“I—” Adrien cleared his throat. “I don't usually buy these, but Chloé said they used to be her favourite.”

She blinked. “So, the girl that used to have a personal chef has a secret passion for instant food?”

“Yeah, I guess so.” He shrugged, hand dropping down to his side as he straightened out. “I wanted to do something nice for her because she apologised.”

That caused her eyes to widen. “Apologised?” Marinette parroted, louder than intended, as she winced and looked to see whether she'd drawn attention to them. “For—you know?”

His dimples showed as he grinned and nodded.

“That's _great_!” she exclaimed happily, thrilled with the development of their previously negative relationship.

Adrien and Chloé had gotten to the point where they could spend time together without the two of their moods spiralling downwards, and the fact that the blonde-haired female had taken Marinette's advice from a while meant that it was a step in the right direction. She wasn't imagining the two of them as best friends, but if they were able to be friends at all due to the things they shared in common, then that would've been great. Adrien had given her tips eventually for cleaning her feathers—to which he told Marinette about when they were waiting at the restaurant table—and how not to slip on the floorboards when running fast due to the changed feet.

They parted ways for a while, Marinette paying for her groceries and heading towards the exit when she saw his tall figure in queue, ruffling his already messy hair as he idly waited.

She decided to stay there, leaning against the wall as she waited for him to get out.

When Adrien noticed her, he visibly brightened up from the previously blank expression, teeth showing as he grinned and moved to stand beside her. “What are you doing here?” he questioned.

“Waiting for you,” she replied bluntly, snickering as he looked momentarily surprised. “Do you want to go back to my apartment for some coffee before you return? You can meet Tikki that way.”

Despite his interest in her cat, he stiffened. “I—I'd rather go to a café?”

It sounded like a question, too. Marinette readily agreed, choosing out her favourite of the local ones when it became apparent that he wasn't familiar with them, and he shrugged and pointed out to a random drink on the menu when he was asked for his order. They chose a table at the back, the furthest away from other customers who could overhear them, and Marinette bought some of the sweet things on display for the two of them to nibble on.

“Are you going to teach Chloé to make any of these?” he questioned as he stirred his drink, surprised that it was too hot to sip. “She's starting trying to guess what seasoning I've put in her dinners when you're not there.”

She laughed at that. “Eventually, maybe. She's wanting to focus more on savoury stuff first once I explained that decorating doesn't always turn out right.”

“I think it's sweet what you're doing for her,” Adrien admitted quietly, an elbow resting against the table as his chin was in his palm. It was such a relaxed and open position, one that he wouldn't have dared to do in front of her before. “You don't have to keep coming back, though. You know that we pose no threat to Nathaniel.”

That was clear, yes, but that hadn't been the reason for her returning each week, not for a long time. Marinette couldn't remember the exact point that she'd realised that Chloé was just acting out because of her condition—and therefore hadn't meant the heated comments she'd said in the beginning, and had simply been aggravated with Adrien—but she hadn't felt a shiver of fear from the cursed female for many months. In fact, she'd grown almost fond of the sharp retorts and scoffs that their conversations earned, even more so when she saw Chloé smile to herself from their creations in the end.

Marinette cupped her mug with both hands as she proclaimed softly, “I'm coming back because we're friends.”

She almost didn't hear his soft utter of, “Oh.”

“I like you both, despite our awful first meeting,” the dark-haired female continued on, a grin curling onto her lips and colour appearing across her cheeks. “I like that you smile and laugh now, instead of being a bundle of sadness and self-loathing. As good as it looked on you, I like the happy Adrien much more.”

As he continued to stir to give his hands something to do, Adrien stuttered as he said, “It—it almost sounds like you're confessing to me, Marinette.”

She blinked.

That wasn't something she'd really thought about. Although she'd wanted to see Adrien happy, any thoughts of a relationship had revolved around Chloé and Nathaniel, wondering whether they could be pleased with each other if the curse didn't break.

She enjoyed her time with the male sat beside her, of course. He'd opened up to reveal himself to be someone kind, that always made sure she had food while visiting—without asking, most of the time—protected her from Chloé's hypnotic singing, and he'd started to openly laugh at the dumbest jokes she could find, never berating her or telling her to leave.

There was a time where she hadn't known his laughter, that indents showed on his cheeks when he was sincere, or that when he was embarrassed, sometimes the tops of his ears grew coloured, too. She knew of his family, his favourite foods, job that he'd acquired back when he'd been cursed and confined in his room.

“Maybe,” she eventually replied, taking a sip of her drink. “I'd rather get to know you more before I disappoint you because it's not true love.”

The spoon stopped stirring as he looked at her across the table, eyebrows knitted together in befuddlement. “You...” Adrien trailed off, voice small and self-conscious all at once. “Do you really think I wouldn't be happy with you unless it's true love?”

“Well, yes,” Marinette replied readily, the warm steam from the mug blending in with the redness of her cheeks. “Didn't you spend two years hoping for it? I don't want to ruin your expectations because of a crush.”

“It's not like I'd _know_ , Marinette,” the blond argued softly, still looking surprised. “There's no curse to break for me to find out. And although, yes, I wanted to maybe find love, that didn't mean I sat inside and searched through dating sites for someone to like me.”

The mention of his previous life surprised her. He didn't talk about it often, keeping it wrapped up and secret. “Then—” Marinette paused, staring right back at him with her own confusion. “How did you expect to break the curse if you weren't looking for someone?”

He averted his eyes, gazing down at the full mug on the table. “I didn't,” he whispered.

That caused a lump to appear in her throat as she swallowed. “Really?” she questioned thickly.

“It was too similar to what happened to me,” the blond-haired male admitted, picking up the spoon again to stir his drink idly. “I—before this all happened, I was quite into gaming when I was younger. I had a lot of friends online, and, sometimes, if we were close enough, I'd agree to meet them to see whether that friendship would translate in person, too.”

She hoped that it wasn't going where she thought it was. Marinette nodded to let him know that she was following, just caught unsure of how to answer to his confession.

He licked his lips.

“I had this friend—I'm not going to say his name, so I'll call him A instead—and we were pretty much always playing together and talking. A became my best pretty quickly, and he was almost always available to talk about our problems, or play a random game that I found and wanted to test out,” Adrien continued, staring down at the swirling liquid as he spoke.

Knowing how it was sure to end put her on edge. It sounded like a nice tale at first, sounding like he had a great friend that had been there for him—something that every young person wanted in their lives.

Adrien's smile wasn't sincere; it didn't meet his eyes, nor did it show the indents of his cheeks. “So, after we found out that we lived pretty close to each other—not across the country as I'd originally thought—we decided to meet up.”

Her hands tightened around her mug as she held it against her chest.

“He said that he didn't have the money to go get food with me, so, I agreed to turn up at his house with lunch.” His expression was tinged with sadness, and as he looked down into the mug, there were shadows along his cheekbones from his eyelashes. “His mother let me in, and I just thought she—I thought she was just strict, you know? I'd heard about her, and the rest of his family, for months. I felt like I kind of knew them, despite them not knowing me.”

There was nothing she could do to comfort him then, she knew.

He finally took a sip of his drink. “It was really strange. I was shown to his room, and his mother shut the door when I walked in, and she locked it from the outside.”

That was a detail that she didn't need to know to know that it was horrific.

“A was there underneath the covers of his bed, being really weird. I tried to ask what was going on, really. I knew that it was his room because I recognised it from pictures, though I did suspect they might be murderers when he stayed silent, just hiding there,” Adrien continued, fingertip tracing along the rim of the mug. “Then, he asked me if I loved him.”

She swallowed. “What?”

“Yeah, that was my reaction, too.” His laugh was half-hearted and forced, not the honest sound that she'd become accustomed to. “He assumed that our friendship was more than that of friends, and by me accepting to meet him, I was agreeing to a date. I—I panicked, rejected him, and tried to explain that I only thought of him as my best friend, but he was just silent and I babbled.”

Marinette swallowed audibly, taking in the pinched features of his face, the obvious sadness that was displayed from the tale. Wanting to cut the pain short, she asked softly, ”...He cursed you, didn't he?”

“Yes, he did,” Adrien confirmed, pausing to regain his composure as he took a sip of his drink. “I don't know how long he'd been cursed for, but all A told me after I fell to the floor from instantaneous pain was that it would either be a painful year before I was able to pass the curse on, or attempt to find true love while wading through all the assholes that are out there.”

Following his lead and drinking to try and cure the dryness of her mouth, Marinette wondered whether A's intentions had been pure from the beginning. He'd obviously known that it was possible to steal someone's humanity, and from Adrien's point of view, there had been no romantic side to their relationship; no whispered words of affection, or promises of dates and intimate times together.

“Adrien, that wasn't your fault at all,” she whispered, eyebrows knitted together as she reached across the table to gently clasp his hand. “You only wanted a friend.”

He didn't pull away from her. “I cursed Chloé from anger, and A was planning to curse me from the beginning, I know.”

There was a clear distinction between the two. Adrien's had been a mistake, one that he'd lamented on and tried to make up for for months, while A and lured him in intentionally for selfish reasons, even though they'd been _friends_. The betrayal must've hit Adrien badly in the beginning, along with the loss of his father—who had reacted just like Andre—so it was no wonder that he'd stayed with Chloé, being a presence in his life since they hadn't been capable of being friends back then.

Her hand tightened around his, squeezing. “She's forgiven you for it.”

“Oh?” Adrien breathed, raising his eyebrows as his gaze flickered up from the drink to her. “Is that something you two talk about when you're all alone?”

Most of the time, her conversations with Chloé were borderline aggressive with a lot of sarcasm, but it didn't feel right to point that out. “She apologised to you, remember?” Marinette reminded him, a smile curling her lips upwards slightly. “If she hated you still, she wouldn't have reached out like that.”

There was no widening of his eyes or shock; instead, Adrien seemed to agree with her as he grinned back, humming in a contemplative way. “Maybe she wanted to sweet talk me for her favourite food.”

A breathy laugh escaped her. “I'm sure she can manage to cook it by herself now.”

When they parted ways, Marinette received a message later that evening stating that Chloé wasn't annoyed by his absence. In fact, he questioned whether they could meet up to go to a café again when she was free from work, or even during her lunch hour, and she'd readily agreed with a large grin that he couldn't see.

And with that, they started a new tradition of meeting each other sometimes at Marinette's break from work, meeting up at a nearby café or diner where Adrien was already sitting, having ordered their food before she arrived. He was aware of her tastes after months of eating together, so she was never disappointed.

They celebrated Chloé's birthday within the hotel with a cake made by Marinette's parents. Marinette had made a big deal of it, claiming that it needed to be celebrated despite the limited attendees, and that was how she found herself entering the _Bourgeois Hotel_ before dawn, sneaking in through the door and taking off her shoes to avoid making noise.

When she pulled out slippers from the bag she'd carried along, Adrien had to place a hand over his mouth to muffle his laughter.

They decorated the designated table in the restaurant, placed banners around the hallways Chloé walked through the most, and dared to place a load of large balloons that Adrien had bought the night before, having hidden them in one of the locked rooms until Marinette arrived. She'd made sure to order the most outrageous party items online a few weeks back, and Nathaniel had pitched in by requesting the cake from her parents.

Although she wasn't there until the evening to see Chloé's reactions, she was sure that the large smile on the cursed female's face was starting to hurt her cheeks. Despite how awkward it was, Chloé had actually swept her into a firm hug, and Marinette had carefully returned it, trying not to jostle the wings and cause discomfort to her.

The protective earmuffs hadn't been used for a few months, thankfully. The day they made a reappearance was when Marinette was stubbornly ill and refused to go home, and she'd barely noticed that the earmuffs had been passed towards Nathaniel until a loud screech had sounded, and she quickly clutched at her throbbing head as she gasped in pain, losing consciousness rapidly.

When she came to, a sheepish Adrien had pulled a chair beside the bed.

“Good morning to you,” he quipped.

She glared half-heartedly, vision blurry from sleepiness. “Was that really necessary?”

“That's her version of caring, you know.” The blond-haired male grinned, reaching over to place the back of his palm against her forehead. “You should've listened and gone home to rest, if you didn't want that to happen. And, by the way, if you try to leave this room before you've recovered, I can guarantee she will do it again.”

“Her care is violent and rude,” Marinette grumbled, sitting herself upright on the bed, stretching her limbs and releasing a noise of satisfaction escaped. “Am I cleared to go home, doctor?”

He flickered her nose lightly. “No, you're not. You still have a fever, so you're staying in bed until it's gone.”

“This is kidnapping all over again,” the dark-haired female pointed out, a lopsided grin on her lips. “You know you can't keep me here forever.”

Adrien laughed as he stood up and started to move her covers, making sure that they were tucked around her. “That's what you think.” He shot her his widest grin, and it only increased as she glared. “Nathaniel called in to your work for you, so you've got two more days off.”

She blinked. “Now my best friend's helping to keep me hostage.”

Raising his eyebrows, Adrien replied without missing a beat, “You knew it was only a matter of time before he sided with us, come on.”

It was such a drastic difference to how she'd first felt waking up in an unfamiliar room within the hotel. There was no pounding heart from fear, she wasn't tempted to break any furniture to defend herself, and she happily smiled and settled back down on the pillows, amused as Adrien tucked her in.

“Do you tuck Chloé in, too?” she asked cheekily.

Childishly, he stuck his tongue out at her before disappearing out of the door.

When he returned later that evening, he carefully placed a tray down onto her lap and extracted his own bowl as he sat down in the chair beside her. Adrien gestured to the food for her to eat, and she had no issues complying.

“Chloé made it for you,” Adrien revealed once she'd eaten half of it, slowing down to take a drink and swallow the medicine that had been placed on the tray, too. “She had Nathaniel look up recipes on his phone, and found something to match the ingredients we had.”

She stared down at the food, touched by the gesture. “That's...”

“She likes you, congratulations,” the blond pointed out, dimples showing as he smiled. “You should've seen how pleased Nathaniel was when she told him why she wanted him to.”

“He's wanted us to get along since the beginning,” Marinette replied, chewing a mouthful of food after. “Are you bothered that Chloé likes him?”

Blinking, he enquired, “Bothered?”

“I mean—” Marinette cut herself off to tuck stray hairs behind her ears, pondering her answer. “It's getting her hopes up if he ever returns her feelings, isn't it?”

Adrien's eyebrows knitted together as he responded, “Doesn't he already like her, though? It's been pretty obvious for a few months.”

“Oh,” she murmured, surprised that he'd caught that. “I—yeah, he does. He's not telling her in case it doesn't break the curse.”

He shrugged lightly. “They both have good intentions towards each other, so who am I to judge them? I know she wouldn't turn on either of you to pass the curse on, not after you've stuck with her through all these months.”

“And you, too.”

“I'm immune to the curse, Marinette,” the blond corrected her nonchalantly.

She made a noise of frustration. “I meant that we've stayed here for you, too. It wasn't just for Chloé.”

As red appeared across his cheeks and he shifted shyly in his seat, Marinette could only grin at the visible reaction that the reminder of their friendship did to him. It was no wonder he'd been so uncertain in the beginning when she'd asked if they were friends, all because of how he'd been cursed in the first place. Yet, as they sat there with her feeling dizzy if she moved too fast, she wondered whether all of her friends would've sat beside her to keep her company when she was ill.

Back at the café, that first outing that they'd had together, she'd pondered on her feelings for him. He was attractive, certainly, but the bright personality that had eventually been revealed, his penchant for jokes, and love for cats; they were all things that she'd learned about him over time, making him seem more approachable and likeable with every titbit that she'd found out.

“I think I might love you,” Marinette blurted, heat appearing on her own face as she rambled to continue before he could interrupt. “I mean—maybe? It's not exactly true love right now, but it could be. I _could_ love you, and I think I'd like to.”

Rather than replying instantly, her eyes widened as he burst into honest—and breathy—laughter that sounded genuine, the wonderful sound that she'd come to know from her stupid jokes and comments. Marinette groaned as she placed her face in her hands, feeling all sorts of embarrassed from the botched confession and his reaction.

“Oh, Marinette,” Adrien murmured, his warm hands gently touching hers, pulling them away from her face so he could look at her with a gentle smile. “I'm not making fun of you, I promise.”

She scrunched up her nose in a disapproving way. “It sure sounded like it.”

“No, no,” he replied quickly, amusement clear in his voice as he came to sit on the edge of the mattress, careful not to knock the tray from her lap. “I was just thinking that that's the best declaration of love I've ever heard.”

Marinette corrected him quickly with, “Of _maybe_ love.”

Laughing, Adrien answered, “You're ridiculously cute, did you know that?”

With narrowed eyes, she looked at him sceptically and enquired, “Cute enough to have a date with you?”

-x-

They kissed on their second date.

As they often ate together, they decided to walk around the city instead, doing things that they hadn't had the chance to in the past. Marinette took photos with her cell phone as they passed stalls with different items to try on, easily shared an umbrella when it rained, and they had a good time in general.

Adrien was full of smiles and laughter; he was bright, happy, and terribly sweet as he held the umbrella above her without complaint, as their height difference made it difficult for her to hold it for the two of them. It was something that he hadn't tease her with, instead readily reaching for the items that she couldn't reach in the kitchen since their first willing moments together.

After their date, Adrien had walked her back to her apartment, where he accepted the invitation to come in. It was the first time that she'd received a positive answer, so Marinette had grinned widely and intertwined their fingers as she held his hand and pulled inside, laughing joyously as Tikki greeted the two of them at the entrance.

As she'd expected, the blond got along swimmingly with her cat. There were no tears or sad moments as he interacted with Tikki, happily throwing one of her toys and watching as she ran after it without appearing saddened, and that made Marinette all the more pleased with how the day had ended.

When Adrien said that he said he should be getting back, Marinette had slipped on her jacket to walk outside with him, partway of the journey. Outside of her building with their hands clasped, she'd bumped her shoulders against him lightly to get his attention.

“Yes?” Adrien enquired, looking down at her with a smile.

Marinette returned the grin and asked in return, “Bend down a bit, will you?”

Adrien complied readily. He leaned down so their noses were able to brush for a moment as she shifted, her free arm wrapping around his shoulder for stability and comfort, the other squeezing his hand tightly as she brushed her lips across his. She could feel the warmth of his breath, the softness of his mouth, and as he returned the movements tentatively, she could feel that he was smiling, too.

There was no consuming passion or heated need for further friction; Marinette was perfectly happy with the gentle movements, the tentative way his hand rose to hold her jaw, thumb tracing comforting patterns below her ear. It made her feel treasured and loved all at once, even as their teeth clumsily clashed and they both released breathy laughs at the mistake, and she put pressure on the end of her toes as she tilted her head back for a more comfortable position, hand gripping the back of his shirt to make sure she was stable.

The soft touches combined with the pressure on her lips caused the sound of her pulse in her head to become apparent, clearly approving of the situation, and it was only as her feet started to protest that she pulled away after placing a chaste kiss to his lips.

As he smiled at her there, lips reddened from their activities, with his dimples on display and shadows across his face from the lampposts and his blond-stained lashes, she couldn't help but feel affection for him, a smug smile on her lips from knowing that she was the cause of it; the smile, the redness to his lips and a smattering across his cheeks, combined with the purely fond expression he had as he looked at her.

Adrien pulled her out of her musings by asking, “I can call you my girlfriend after that, right?”

Her laughter was smothered in his chest.

Their lunch dates started and ended with kisses, and as Chloé had become self-sufficient, she was fine with Adrien leaving at night to spend time with her. Marinette passed the weeks in a haze of happiness, spending time with him, Chloe, and Nathaniel in her free time. By that point, it was easy for her to consider them all friends, even though her friendship with Chloé had surprised her at first.

When Adrien and Marinette had returned to the _Bourgeois Hotel_ one day, they heard the sound of Chloé's nails on the floorboards as she skidded and stopped in front of them, her eyes wide and feathers of her wings out of place from the sudden pain.

”...What happened?” Marinette questioned, bewildered.

Chloé smoothed down her dress. “There's a pigeon in the kitchen.”

“In the kitchen?” the male beside her parroted, audibly confused. “How did it even get in there?”

“I—I wanted some fresh air, so I had one of the doors open for a bit,” she explained, grimacing. “It got inside and starting flying all over the place. I knocked it out for a bit, but it's just... I don't want to _touch_ it.”

They managed to get it out after half an hour. It involved Chloé lurking in the background, refusing to get close to the bird, and Adrien trying to shoo it in the direction of the door with a broom. Marinette had decided to record it halfway through, laughing to herself as he screamed in surprise as the pigeon flew over his head, and sent it to Nathaniel.

He might've posted the video online, and drawn pictures with a favourite character of his replacing Adrien.

Marinette's birthday was spent much the same as Chloé's. After getting birthday wishes from her co-workers, and talking to her parents on the phone and promising to meet up at the weekend, she'd arrived at the hotel to a shower of confetti that scared her. Then, she saw that the restaurant had been decorated again, reusing the silly party hats that she'd bought before, and the main event was a cake that Chloé had baked by herself.

It was lopsided, but still sweet.

It was nearing a year of Chloé's condition when the blonde-haired female managed to spill the contents of the mixing bowl on herself, the mixture coating her dress and feathers that had stuck out at the bottom. She'd audibly grumbled as she walked past the three of them, excusing herself to shower, while Adrien readily took over the responsibility of cooking.

Marinette leaned back against a countertop, turning her attention the the male beside her. “So, Nathaniel,” she started brightly.

He raised his eyebrows and replied, “So, Marinette.”

It was something they'd done for the longest time. Her lips twitched from trying not to laugh as she said, “Ready to admit that you have passionate feelings for a certain someone yet?”

His turquoise-coloured eyes flickered in Adrien's direction.

Marinette waved a hand dismissively. “He already knows—has done for months, before I even said anything.”

Despite not being in their conversation, Adrien inserted himself into it by questioning, “Are you talking about his crush on Chloé?”

The dark-haired female shrugged as she raised her own eyebrows, trying to convey that it wasn't her fault. “You're not exactly subtle about it, Nathaniel. Well, actually, you kind of are? A lot more than Chloé is about her massive one on you.”

“We are not talking about my feelings like it's a television show,” he grumbled.

“It's cute watching you two, though,” Marinette replied, grinning as she moved closer to lightly bump her shoulder against his. “I'd absolutely watch it if it was made into a show.”

Adrien laughed as he put a pan onto the stove. “Are you sure about that?”

“Oh.” She blinked. “That kind of love isn't exactly suitable for children, is it?”

Nathaniel's narrowed eyes flickered between the both of them before he announced, “I hate you both.”

“You've said that you've hated me for years,” she replied, laughing. “It doesn't stop you from coming over to pet my cat.”

Adrien's sudden coughing fit was what alerted her to what she said. She watched with muffled laughter as he visibly reddened as he tried to calm himself down, a good portion of his face coloured as he raised it to glare at her.

She sheepishly grinned back. “I'm not responsible for that.”

There was a moment before Nathaniel joined her in her laughter, and Adrien continued to glare at them with twitching lips before he succumbed to it, too. It was a nice moment which transformed into their conversation taking on a different topic between the three of them as Adrien cooked, and Marinette set out the plates for the four of them.

It was interrupted by loud sounds outside the room, and then the kitchen doors opened wide, hitting the sides loudly as Chloé ran through, feet sliding along the floor as she skidded to a stop in front of Nathaniel, her arms wrapped around him widely.

Marinette let out a choked noise as she took in the state of her.

Her wings were gone, and the legs that were on display were purely human, along with bare feet that were touching the cold tiles of the kitchen. Her blonde hair was wet, brushed carelessly out of her face and soaking Nathaniel's shirt as she hugged him, but the main difference was the fact that she'd only wrapped a towel around herself before running downstairs.

“Chloé?” Nathaniel questioned, voice higher-pitched from usual due to surprise.

Marinette wisely moved the pan off of the heat for Adrien when she'd seen his equally wide eyes staring at the duo.

“You're—you're an idiot,” Chloé stuttered, voice cracking as she sniffed. It was clear that the water on her face wasn't only from the shower from her erratic breathing. “I can't _believe—_ ”

As she cut herself off to press her lips passionately against his, Marinette reached for Adrien's hand and slowly tugged him towards the door, allowing the two to have a private moment without their gawking.

Walking through the halls together, Adrien was the one to break the silence with, “He broke the curse without even meaning to.” He sounded shocked, astounded, and dumbfounded all at once, and that was reflected in his expression as she looked over her shoulder at him.

“Let's be fair here,” Marinette replied, grinning widely. “He never meant for his stalking of you to get him kidnapped.”

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://xiueryn.tumblr.com/) ♥(ꈍᴗꈍ)


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